


Demon's Trial

by Yami_Faerie



Series: Demon Blood 'verse [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s02e10 Hunted, F/M, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Recovering Addict Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Sexual Content, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-11 05:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7030681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yami_Faerie/pseuds/Yami_Faerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchester brothers head to Indiana to find the special child Scott Carey, but there's more going on than they expected. A Hunter is aiming to kill the special children. Another seeks the thing killing teenage boys in their sleep, but is it all a test, or a trap?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> There is an exorcism in this chapter. I took the words from ep. 1.22 "Devil's Trap".

**Lafayette, Indiana**

"You looked wiped out, Cory," Edna Monroe said to her sixteen-year-old son as she set a pot roast on the dining room table. "Didn't you sleep last night?"

"Yeah," Cory answered, brown eyes that were almost drowned out by the dark circles under them rising to meet her own.

"Well, I mean," Edna flustered after exchanging a look with her husband, Ronald, "it's just that… I know you're down in the basement, but you've been…" She sighed, unsure of how to say what she wanted to say.

"It sounds like you've been having some very vocal dreams," Ronald finally said. "Like nightmares or something."

Cory frowned before shaking his head and hiding his brown eyes under his mop of corn-silk hair. "No nightmares," he said. "Really, I've been sleeping the entire night through."

"Are you sure?" Edna asked in concern. "I hate saying it, but you look like you've been pulling all-nighters the entire week."

"I swear I haven't," Cory said with a shrug. "I really don't know why I look so dead, Mom, but I promise I've been going to bed at a decent hour, no all-nighters or anything."

"All right," Edna finally said. Nothing else was said of Cory's appearance or his dreams for the rest of the night. Edna did notice that his appetite had increased the past few days, as though he was trying to compensate for a lack of energy, but if he was sleeping, then it just didn't make any sense. Regardless, Edna did her best to put it out of her mind that night when they all retired to their beds. It was really hard, though, because Cory's dreams weren't just vocal.

If Edna didn't know any better, she'd think her only son was having intense wet dreams.

That night was the worst yet. Edna just could not sleep, the sound of her son's voice drifting up from the basement to her bedroom on the second floor. She felt Ronald shift restlessly next to her and finally decided that enough was enough.

"You need to talk to him in the morning," she said, turning to face her husband. He opened his eyes and nodded after a moment.

"I will," he sighed.

If only they had pressed back at dinner, then maybe it wouldn't have been too late. Around three in the morning, Cory suddenly started screaming in a mixture of ecstasy and pain, and both Edna and Ronald could no longer ignore the noise. They hurried down the stairs to the basement when the screaming stopped, and burst in to find —

Edna took one look and starting screaming. "Oh, God, no," Ronald whispered in anguish.

Cory Monroe was dead.

* * *

**One Month Earlier**

Thomas Humphrey had grown up knowing about the supernatural. His dad wasn't a Hunter, but his uncle, a gruff man named Gerald, was. Thomas knew a thing or two about demon exorcisms, as well as how to get rid of spirits, poltergeists, and werewolves. And then he'd been possessed by a demon while driving through Texas to go visit an old friend from high school and had met Sam Winchester, another Hunter who was being held captive by other demons and was being forced to drink demon blood. The blood gave him the ability to exorcise demons and send them back to Hell. He had been hurt pretty severely by the demon possessing Thomas, but he had still managed to get rid of the demon and saved Thomas' life.

Then Thomas had been delivered to Sam's father and brother, John and Dean, who were also Hunters, and were desperately trying to find and save Sam. Before heading back home to Indiana, Dean had warned him to never speak about Sam's demon blood thing to anyone, because if he did, Dean would find him and kill him, along with anyone else he dared to tell. Somehow knowing that the other man was deadly serious in his threat, Thomas had promised and taken a bus back home.

His parents had been so glad to see him, had wanted to know what happened, but Thomas hadn't been sure what to tell them without freaking his dad out and breaking his mom's perception of the world. When Gerry turned up two weeks later, however, he still had no other story to tell, apart from a bout of amnesia. He _did_ modify the truth slightly, though.

"I was possessed by a demon," he said at long last, ignoring the way his mom's mouth had fallen open and focusing on Gerald. "It was… it was brutal, the things it did while it was controlling me."

"How'd you get out?" Gerald asked, voice gruff but filled with concern. "I was looking for you the entire time, son."

"It was John and Dean Winchester," Thomas answered. "They were looking for John's youngest son, Sam — he'd also been possessed, and I guess the demon in me knew where he was. They got the information from it before performing an exorcism."

Gerald released a deep, almost cleansing breath. "Good man, John Winchester," he said. "It's a shame he's dead now."

"What?" Thomas was shocked by the news. "What happened?"

"Whatever demon took his son put him in a bad position or something," Gerald answered. "I heard that John ended up dying, trying to save the kid."

"God, that's awful," Thomas whispered. "He was a good man."

"He was," Gerald agreed. "Took everyone by surprise, honestly, but I'm pretty sure the demon that possessed his son was the same one he'd been after the last twenty-odd years." He shook his head ruefully. "All these years and the damn thing took him out. Anyway," he continued after a moment, "I need to get goin'. Got a job over in Tennessee." He clapped a hand to Thomas' shoulder. "I'm glad you're back, Tom. You take care of yourself, you hear?"

Thomas nodded. "You, too, Gerry." It was only after his uncle left that he realized his parents were still in the room. They'd been so silent through the entire exchange…

"Demons?" his mom finally asked in a faint voice. Thomas met his dad's eyes and knew they both had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

**Now**

"Lafayette, Indiana," Dean announced as he shook Sam awake from a nightmare-free nap. "What was the name of that motel you found online?"

Sam blinked in the bright afternoon light as he struggled back into a fully upright position in the Impala's front seat. "Uh, the Blue Rose Motel," he answered, stretching as best as he could in the slightly cramped space.

"Sounds pretty girly," Dean joked, glad when Sam rolled his eyes and snorted. "You got Scott's address?"

"Yeah," Sam answered. "We goin' there now?"

"Nah, let's wait for the morning," Dean said. "I don't know about you, but I'm still pretty wiped out from a whirlwind of Jedi mind powers and evil twins."

"Yeah," Sam said, staring down at the stitches on his left arm.

They found the motel and checked into their room before venturing out to find food, locating a diner with pie. Sam was soon buried in the information they had on Scott Carey. Dean, meanwhile, was reading the local newspaper. A headline caught his eye.

"Huh, sounds weird," he said.

"What sounds weird?" Sam asked without looking up.

"Oh, uh, some kid died in his sleep few days back, screaming."

"Okay," said Sam in that way that meant he wasn't really interested.

"It could be a job," Dean offered.

"We're not here to do a job, Dean," Sam said, finally raising his head to stare at Dean. "We're here to see Scott Carey, find out what he can do and if Azazel's visited him in his dreams or not."

"I know," Dean said, folding up the newspaper and setting it aside. "Still, sounds a little weird, right?"

"Whatever, dude," Sam said distractedly, looking back down at his notes. "You know, Scott's dad never remarried."

"Neither did Dad," said Dean, "or Andy's adoptive dad, for that matter. Only fucked-up Mr. Miller did that."

"Weird," Sam said as a pretty waitress delivered their food.

"Anything else I can get you boys?" she asked with a coy smile, which instantly caught Dean's attention. Why hadn't he noticed her before? And then he remembered: he'd been busy worrying about Sam again.

"I don't know," he said, leaning back in his seat. "What else you got to offer?"

The waitress — her name-tag proclaimed her to be named Shinae — blushed and giggled. "I'm sure I could think of something," she said, eyeing Dean in that 'I'm _very_ interested' way. He widened his mega-watt smile. "I get off at eight," Shinae finally said. "You gonna be alone?"

"Yes, he is," Sam said, already digging into his salad. "Just not at the motel, Dean."

"Sure thing, Sammy," Dean said distractedly. "Can I get your number, Shinae?"

Shinae giggled again. "Of course, Dean," she said, pulling out a pen and scribbling down her number on Dean's palm. "Need any refills on your drinks?" she asked, and when both boys shook their heads, she shot Dean one final grin and walked away, hips swinging suggestively. Dean watched her go before turning back to catch an eye roll from Sam.

"Sex and Hunting," he said. "You ever think of anything else?"

Dean chuckled. "Beer?" he suggested, and Sam laughed with a rueful shake of his head.

* * *

**Springfield, Illinois**

Gerald Humphrey carefully read over what he had found on his latest potential case, trying to decide what might be responsible for the death of a young man. "Cory Monroe," he murmured. The sixteen-year-old had, according to his parents, been suffering intense dreams for the week leading up to his death. He had not only died screaming in the middle of the night, but Edna Monroe, the boy's mother, had tearfully described the screams as "painful ecstasy". When they'd found him, he'd been covered in blood, deep scratches and semen with the covers kicked off and no clothes. The police could find no signs of a break-in, no strange fingerprints, nothing. The kid had apparently developed claws to rip himself apart and orgasmed himself to death.

Gerald stroked his stubble-ridden chin thoughtfully. It was the "ecstasy" part that really caught his attention. There weren't many things out there that could kill someone in a pleasurable way, especially a hormone-driven teenager. Cory was the third teen in Lafayette to die in this way over the last month, which definitely told him it was the work of something supernatural.

In any case, it looked like Gerald was heading back to Indiana. He wanted to check on his brother Terrence, and his nephew Thomas, wanted to see how they were coping in the aftermath of Thomas' return home after being possessed by a demon. Besides which, it'd be great to see Lorraine again and see how she treated him with the new knowledge she had gained about the world of the supernatural. No more pretending he was in the CIA or whatever it was she had believed over the last 30 years she had known him and Terrence.

Gerald grinned, put his papers away and got ready for bed. He'd leave in the morning and be there by dinnertime. There'd be plenty of time to catch up with his family and do his job.

* * *

**Ruston, Louisiana**

The demon screamed as holy water went down its throat. It was one thing he really enjoyed Hunting, apart from vamps, of course. He stepped back, pulled out his notes, and began to read. _"Exorcizamus te,"_ he intoned, watching as the teenage girl's body began to writhe in the chair it was tied to, _"omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii…"_

It was always amusing, listening to them scream, to hear their begs to be released from the Devil's Trap, screaming obscenities and threatening torture. Like they deserved mercy, he thought savagely as he continued to read.

"Don't matter," the demon suddenly gasped out, the girl's long hair hiding the black eyes of the monster inside, "you'll die in the war…"

Now _that_ got his attention, and he paused. "A war?" he asked. "What war?"

When the demon refused to answer, he pulled out all the stops, and what he learned, well… It wasn't pretty.

"So, there's an upcoming war," he said after some time, "and you demons are the soldiers, right?"

"Not the only ones," the demon whispered brokenly, "we got humans on our side, too."

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Humans?" he said. "Don't make me laugh, the only humans on your side are the ones you possess, like this girl you're in."

The demon laughed wetly and coughed, blood spattering the girl's lips. "Got psychic kids," it rasped out. "The perfect soldiers cause they're not fully human, and they can _do_ things. Lots of things."

He narrowed his eyes, easily accepting the idea that these kids weren't fully human. Psychics of any and all kinds had always creeped him out; people just weren't supposed to be able to _do_ things like that. "How do I find them?" he asked, already planning to track them all down and kill every last one of them.

The demon laughed again. "You know one," it told him. "Met 'im last month from what I hear, and he's the favorite, the best of them all." It grinned, making the girl's face look beyond demented. "Samuel Winchester."

Sam. Of course, it made perfect sense. _"What if I started playing for the other team? Would you kill me then?"_ Sam and his brother, Dean, they both knew what he was, but he was still living, breathing, walking the earth.

That just would _not_ do.

He completed the exorcism and buried the girl's body afterward. She'd been dead long before the demon was expelled from her body, but it was a necessary sacrifice, because she had delivered his newest mission.

Sam Winchester and every psychic child like him were going to die, he'd make sure of it. Climbing into his car, Gordon Walker set aside his still-bloody tools and drove into the night. He had some research to do and some connections to make use of.


	2. Guilt Running Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat explicit sex scene ahead!

"I think he's taken the bait. They both should be here during your next conquest."

"Good."

"Now, I've given you free reign about which ones you've been going after, but this next one needs to be someone very specific."

"You have already chosen?"

"Yes. He's right across the street from the child I've had Hillary watching. I imagine all the players will fall right into place as expected."

"What if they manage to overpower me? What if _Winchester_ stops me?"

"Well… I guess they just will. You knew the risks when I summoned you, I've always been very clear on that. Still, you should manage to kill them both before anyone, _him_ in particular, can interrupt, but you _have_ to play your part exactly or the trap won't be sprung and the test cannot happen. Do you understand?"

"… Yes."

"Good. Now go."

* * *

Shinae let out a breathy gasp as Dean slowly guided her onto him. God, this felt so good, he thought as he gave them both a moment to adjust before starting to move. The brunette-haired girl moaned as she rose up slightly and pushed back down, running her hands down his back. Her chest rubbed against his as he tangled his hands in her hair and guided her into a kiss, tongues battling for dominance.

It had over two months since Dean had last had sex. Part of him regretted it, but with everything that had happened lately, it just hadn't felt right. He had worried over finding Sam, worried over keeping a close eye on the kid once he had him back, worried about his secret, about John being in Hell, about everything except himself. The fact that Sam hadn't been against this particular coupling reminded him that he could still be the big brother while doing the things _he_ liked to do.

And he was liking this _a lot_.

"Dean!" Shinae gasped when he shoved forward, Shinae landing on her back as he continued to thrust into her. "Oh God, yes, more…"

Dean felt a grin overtake his face as he attacked Shinae's neck, nipping and kissing his way down it before heading a little lower to her breasts. "Like that?" he asked softly.

" _Yes,"_ Shinae hissed. Dean chuckled and kept thrusting, managing to wind a hand between their sweat-slicked bodies and giving Shinae a little more pleasure. She reacted at once, body arching up against the bed and her mouth falling open.

Oh yeah. This was a _great_ way to get back into the swing of things.

* * *

She watched him from a distance. Part of her wanted to get closer, but if he really _could_ sense her kind, then it was just a bad idea. So, she stayed back and watched.

He was using his computer, probably doing more research. It made sense with what she knew about him. Still, it was clear that he was fighting off exhaustion from the way he kept rubbing at his eyes. Her agents that had tracked him over the last month had said he tended to sleep as little as possible. When he _did_ sleep, though, he was clearly plagued with nightmares and often woke up, drenched in sweat and shaking like a leaf.

"I think he'd stop sleeping altogether if it were humanly possible," one of the other watchers had told her. She knew he was prone to nightmares, but he had never looked quite this bad while under her care in L.A.

The boy suddenly closed down his laptop, stood up, stretched, and then he was stepping outside. She retreated a bit further back to be safe, but he didn't seem to notice her, so she relaxed a little and continued to watch.

He sat down on the curb, elbows propped on his knees while he stared up at the night sky, stars faintly glowing above. "You should be up there somewhere," he said aloud, and she had no doubt whom he was talking to. Her agents said he did this sometimes when his brother was fast asleep. "Not… not down there."

He dropped his head and ran his hands through his shaggy hair. "When Azazel told me what you'd have to do to set me free, I thought to myself that I'd sooner die than let that happen. Me and Dean, we need you _here_ , not in Hell. You never deserved to go there. Not like I do."

He was silent for a few minutes before lifting his head again and staring at nothing in particular. "You said I need Dean more than I need you," he said softly. "I guess you could see how that might be true, but that was only because you weren't there when I needed you growing up. And when you were there, I just couldn't see that your desire to protect us often outweighed the desire to just be our dad. All I saw was the drill sergeant who protected his boys and taught them how to protect themselves in turn." She thought she could see tears in his eyes.

"And... God, all I wanted was a _father_ ," he whispered. "I wanted someone who could care less about my ability to hold a shotgun correctly or the fact that Mom died for me. I never cared about the revenge growing up, not once I knew about it, because I _never_ knew Mom. I never got to hear stories of what she was like because you were in too much pain and Dean always blew up about it if I so much as mentioned her. I wanted normal like the other kids in school because I never got to know what it was like, not like you and Dean did." He swiped a hand across his eyes. "I just wanted one chance and I let a bunch of fuckin' _demons_ convince me that it was more important than anything else. I regret that more than anything else, even if I never knew before Rachel told me."

He fell silent again, and she was struck by the vulnerability in his voice, in his posture. Not for the first time, she wondered if Azazel's favoritism was blinding him to the kind of person this kid was, but he seemed so set on this boy being the one to carry out whatever the end game was that he never listened to a thing she said about it.

"I get that you were only doing the best you could," the boy said, drawing her attention once more. "And I'm sorry that I caused you to end up in the Pit. I guess it'll be my fault if they get Dean down there, as well." He sighed and stood. "Sometimes I wish Dean would abandon me completely. All I'm going to do is get him killed, but I bet you made him promise to never leave me before you walked out there and let Azazel take your soul, and Dean… He always keeps his promises."

A long yawn suddenly escaped the boy and he stretched before walking back into his motel room. A few minutes later, she could see that he was finally going to bed, and she settled back to see how long he lasted before the nightmares drew him back to the land of the living. She had a feeling it would be a lot sooner than later, but at least Azazel's favorite was finally sleeping. They couldn't afford to lose him before it was time to open the gate, not if he was really the one who was going to win over the others.

* * *

"You're not staying?" Shinae couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed as Dean started to pull on his boxers.

"I really can't," Dean said with an apologetic smile.

"Is it something I did?" Shinae was tempted to pull a sheet around her body, but that was never how she did things. Once the clothes came off, they were off until morning. She wasn't used to this.

"No!" Dean said quickly. "No, it wasn't you at all. It's just…" He trailed off, and Shinae decided to take a guess.

"Is it that other man you were with earlier?" she asked.

"He's my little brother," Dean said at once.

"Oh." Shinae frowned, trying to figure this out. "He's really tall."

"He's a sasquatch is what he is," Dean said with a small snort. "He's four years younger than me, though."

"So, are you one of those overprotective types, then?" Shinae asked. "I mean, 'cause he looked like he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself."

Dean stared at her.

"I guess he looked really thin and really tired," she amended after a moment.

"He uh…" Dean finished buttoning his jeans before meeting her eyes again. "He's had a really rough time of it lately," he finally said. "Honestly? I haven't spent that much time apart from him for awhile."

Shinae frowned. "So, how long has it been since the last time you had sex?"

Dean huffed a small laugh. "Over two months," he said. " _Way_ too long for me."

Shinae couldn't help but feel impressed. "You put your brother's needs above your own," she said softly, and Dean nodded after a long moment, pulling on his t-shirt and grabbing the dark red button-down he'd been wearing on top of it. "Well," she finally said, standing up and walking over to him. "I gotta say, you are _not_ what I expected at all."

Dean raised his eyebrows, silently asking what she _had_ been expecting.

Shinae finally let her smile escape. "You were even _better_ ," she said, rising on her toes to give him a kiss. "You staying in town a little longer or are you leaving in the morning?"

"We're here for a few days," Dean said.

"Well, maybe we could hook up again before you leave?" Shinae suggested.

Dean nodded after a moment and smiled. "I think I'd really like that," he said. "Thanks for a good time, Shinae."

"Thank you," Shinae said back, snagging a bathrobe for herself as she walked Dean to the front door of her apartment. "Call me," she said. "Seriously, or I'll hunt you down myself."

Dean grinned, gave her another kiss, and then he was gone. It really was a shame that he wouldn't stay the night and probably wouldn't call her, Shinae thought as she returned to her bedroom, but given what little she knew about him, she could tell that his heart was in the right place.

* * *

_Disappointment. Anger. Pure hatred. Nothing good surrounds him._

" _Why?" Jessica whispers. "Why didn't you save me?"_

" _I lost my life for you," says Mary, "and you became a monster."_

" _You're Azazel's bitch-boy," Derrick tells him. " Daddy's perfect little warrior's evil, now."_

" _I tried so hard to protect you and you gave into the lust for blood," John says. "You gave into what I tried to never let you become. Why didn't you fight harder?"_

" _I'm always gonna have to protect you," says Dean, "keep an eye on you, make sure you don't go darkside. But you_ will _and you_ know _it."_

_The blood sings in his veins. He is powerful, independent, and incredibly strong. No one can stop him._

" _All those times you ran away," says the man with his own voice, "you weren't running from them. You were running towards me."_

_No hope. No escape. Doomed to become evil, to go to Hell where he's already sold his soul._

" _It had to be you, Sammy," the unknown girl whispers. "It always had to be you."_

"Sam, wake up!"

" _You weren't worth it!" John screams, eyes black. "I'm in_ HELL _because of you!"_

"Sam, dammit, wake up!"

" _I died for you, we all did, and it was all for nothing."_

"Sammy!"


	3. New Targets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains swearing and sexual references, but nothing explicit. This will be true for the rest of the story.

Sam's eyes snapped open and he shot up, nearly colliding his head into Dean's. His brother barely managed to jerk back, hands still clutching at Sam's shoulders.

"Whoa, easy," Dean said, staring down at him as he gasped for breath, "just relax, Sammy, you were dreamin' again."

Again. Sam was starting to wonder if it was even remotely possible to get a full night's rest without suffering another nightmare or five. "What time is it?" he asked once he managed to catch his breath.

"Three A.M.," Dean answered, "I just got back from Shinae's place."

"What, no staying over?" Sam asked, running a shaky hand through his hair and trying desperately to turn Dean away from the inevitable question he asked every time.

"Not really my thing right now," Dean said with a shrug, finally dropping his hands from Sam's shoulders and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said, nodding quickly and staring down at the sheets tangled around his legs. "Just a dream, that's all."

"You… wanna talk about it?"

Dean had never asked that question growing up, nor when Jessica had died. His entire life, Dean had never wanted to _talk_ about things, apart from making sure he was okay. After their run-in with zombie Angela Mason, however, things had changed. Dean still didn't like talking much, but he started giving Sam the chance to talk, if he wanted to.

The problem now was that Sam didn't _want_ to talk about his dreams. The crisp images of a girl his age touching her girlfriend and causing her heart to stop meant a vision he couldn't stop. He'd still done the research, knew that the girl was named Lily Johnson, and that she lived in San Diego. He was also pretty sure she was now a complete recluse.

Then there were the more standard nightmares. These covered Jessica's death, often with the shadowed figure of a demon he knew wasn't Azazel in the room, and then there was John selling his soul to save the lives of his sons, Sam's time in captivity, and fear-based nightmares of him going darkside and Dean having to kill him. It didn't escape his attention that the last one didn't start until after the vampire hunt in Montana, but all in all, Sam's ability to sleep was suffering again, although now it was even worse than it had been a year ago. And, obviously, Dean had noticed.

"No, I'm fine," Sam finally said, and Dean was giving off a mixture of disappointment and sheer _relief_ at not having to talk or listen that stung more than Sam wanted it to. "Go to bed, Dean," he added, "you look wiped out."

"Yeah," Dean said quietly. "What about you?'

Sam shrugged and pulled away his bed sheets. "I'm not getting any more sleep tonight," he answered honestly.

"When'd you go to bed?" Dean asked, suspicion written all over his face.

Sam sighed. "Midnight or so," he said, standing up and walking to the bathroom.

"Sam," Dean said, rising and following him to the doorway, "you've gotta talk about this, man, you're getting worse and worse with every night that goes by."

"I'm _fine_ , Dean, really." Sam could tell his brother didn't believe him, but the effort it would take to make Dean believe him was beyond his capacity right at that moment. He shut the door and locked it, giving himself a few minutes to try and pull himself together before leaving the safe haven and facing the older man again. Thankfully, however, Dean was already in bed and halfway asleep when he emerged, so he retreated to the table and set up his laptop.

"We're gonna talk about this sooner or later," Dean mumbled as he rolled onto his side, facing away from Sam.

"Of course, Dean," Sam whispered. He was pretty tempted to use his powers to make Dean stop asking, but part of him didn't really want him to ever stop. Fact was, he just wasn't ready to talk about anything. With an inward sigh, Sam turned back to his laptop and resumed his research. He was starting to think that there _was_ a pattern to the psychic kids, a pattern that could tell him who they all were. It was just a matter of cracking the code buried in John's research.

* * *

"Ryan, wake up!" Heidi Fulmer begged her eighteen-year-old son as he writhed and wriggled on his bed, covers tossed about and the front of his boxers wet in a way that made Heidi _very_ uncomfortable. Not for the first time since her husband's death nine years ago, she cursed her existence as a single mother. She just wasn't _qualified_ to handle this. Hell, it had been her _brother_ who had ended up giving her son the "birds and the bees" talk at the start of puberty because she just _couldn't_ do it.

Heidi reached out to grab her son's shoulders and felt a shudder pass through her as she stretched her left arm out toward his right shoulder. Without thinking, she raised her eyes to the mirror on his chest of drawers and thought she saw a flash of scaly flesh but then her attention was back on her son and she gripped his shoulders firmly, giving him a good shake. "Ryan!"

Ryan's eyes shot open and he scrambled away, falling off the other side of his bed with a soft _whump_ as his tangled sheets fell right with him. "Mom? What the hell are you doing in here?"

"You were having a nightmare or something," Heidi said after a moment. "Moaning and tossing about in a way I've never seen before."

"I'm fine, Mom," Ryan said, struggling to stand up and wrapping a sheet around his stocky frame, which hid his wet boxers and allowed Heidi to relax ever so slightly. "It was just a dream. You should get back to bed, you've got that meeting at eight and I've got to be in the shop by nine."

Heidi stared at her son in worry, but eventually his logic won out. "Are you sure you're all right?" she asked anyway, smiling slightly when Ryan rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Good night, Mom," he said softly as she left the room.

"Sleep well," replied Heidi as she shut his bedroom door. She walked down the hall to her room and went inside, eyes still drawn to the side of the bed her husband used to sleep on. Nine years, and she still missed him so much it was like a gaping hole in her heart that didn't know how to heal. Heidi knew after this long that it never would.

It wasn't until she went to turn off her bedside lamp that Heidi realized she had overlooked something in Ryan's room and paused, thinking back to the moment she had looked in the mirror —

Heidi's breath caught and her hand dropped to the nightstand. She'd seen scaly flesh that had a distinct feminine curve to it. Had she imagined that? Maybe she was just overtired from too many double shifts at work, but it had seemed so _real_ to her…

It was quite a while before Heidi was able to fall asleep again.

* * *

Dean _really_ didn't like the dark shadows under his brother's eyes that weighed down like bruises on his paling skin. He also didn't like the effect that this lack of sleep was having on the kid. Sam was slowly becoming more withdrawn and less talkative, and while a younger Dean would have appreciated the longer amounts of time that were spent in silence, the Dean of the here and now really didn't. Sam was _supposed_ to be talkative and emotional, asking questions and making intelligent arguments, but ever since coming back from that damn warehouse in L.A., he had slowly created a protective barrier that Dean wasn't sure he could keep breaking through. Dean was supposed to break through everything, was supposed to know what was going through his geeky brother's brain at any given moment, whether he really wanted to know or not. It was just how they worked, how they had _always_ worked. Sam had always trusted him, told him everything, and now…

Watching Sam as he did more of his never-ending research on the computer, Dean found he couldn't discern the expression on his little brother's face, couldn't read the emotions in his hazel eyes. It had been that way since they'd left Andy Gallahger three days earlier, and Dean was only now beginning to see that they were both reaching their breaking points. Between John's deal, Gordon's suspicions, that damn zombie and Andy's evil twin, they were stretching themselves too thin. Dean would _never_ have hit Sam before that night in Montana. He would never have shut Sam's pain of losing their dad out just because of his sudden issues with the man, issues that still had Sam's name written all over them because in the end, it was all about Sam, about doing the same job he'd been doing since 1983, but with higher risks because now he had to fucking _save_ his brother from Azazel's big ol' plans.

And that led to the even stickier questions. Did John really think that Sam would go darkside without Dean there to protect him? Did Sam's inner goodness depend _that much_ on Dean being beside him at all times? He looked over at Sam again as he pulled on his boots. The kid had told Andy that there was no one like him, no one with a _list_ of psychic abilities granted by the damnable yellow-eyed demon. Sam was unique, even among the other psychic children.

Dean's fingers stilled on his laces as a large piece of the puzzle clicked into place. He and Sam were each other's strength _and_ weakness. Sam would do _anything_ to protect Dean, and he didn't doubt for a second that this could easily include starting up the demon blood addiction _willingly_ if it'd save his life, somehow. But so long as Dean was around, Sam would stay away from the blood because he didn't _want_ to be addicted or let Dean down. He would learn to control his abilities so he didn't hurt anyone, Dean in particular, even though he was clearly scared of himself, of the things he could do. All Dean had to do was keep them both alive and together. Hopefully that wouldn't prove to be easier said than done, because they had enough problems to be going on with already.

"You need coffee," Dean said, finishing the laces on his boots and striding over to the table where Sam still sat, buried in his never-ending research. "Let's go, Sammy."

Sam nodded and a few minutes later they were in the Impala, seeking out breakfast. Sam had managed to regain some of the weight he had lost while detoxing nearly two months earlier, but his poor sleeping habits were taking their toll on his health, and his clothes still hung off him more than Dean preferred. As such, Dean had taken to making sure they ate more regularly, often driving the few extra miles to find a decent sit-down diner instead of snagging something from a gas station or fast-food restaurant. He was sure Sam had noticed, but the fact that he hadn't said anything about it other than smiling a little more often than not told Dean he appreciated it, all the same.

* * *

Well, _that_ was weird. Thomas silently watched Ryan Fulmer as the kid pulled out a busted exhaust pipe from the little '94 Dodge Shadow he was working on. Thomas prided himself on being able to notice the little changes in the people he knew, but Ryan had changed overnight.

He was quiet, unusually so. Ryan had become a little withdrawn when his father had died some years ago, but he was still enthusiastic about his job, about cars, always spouting off facts or even _talking_ in an undertone to whatever vehicle he happened to be working on. Ryan also was pretty energetic, but today his movements were more sluggish, like he was hung-over. Thomas knew for a fact that the kid didn't drink, especially since it was a drunk driver that had killed his father.

The biggest change was Ryan's appearance. He was normally pretty tan, and healthy as a horse. Hell, he'd looked perfectly fine the day before, but today, he looked tired and slightly pale, like he was suddenly in the middle of a cold.

"You alright, man?" Thomas asked when he passed Ryan to go find that part he needed to fix the '69 Camaro he was working on.

"Huh?" Ryan said distractedly before looking up and realizing Thomas had asked a question. "Oh, uh, yeah."

Ryan was always more focused than that, and it only increased Thomas' worry. "You sure?"

"'Course," Ryan said, finally pulling out a smile. "Just didn't sleep as well as usual last night or something. I'm fine, really."

Thomas nodded and headed off to grab the things he needed to continue working. People didn't just go from healthy to sleeping problems in one night. He knew Ryan wasn't the type to have nightmares, so it couldn't have been something like that. Honestly, he wondered if this kid was somehow involved in the case his uncle was heading into town to solve. He'd said three teenage boys who had died over the last month had suffered from nightmares or something for a week before kicking the bucket, and not in a remotely nice way.

Thomas decided then and there to keep an eye on Ryan for the next day or so. If he got any worse, he'd tell Gerald. Maybe he'd be able to save the kid from suffering the same fate as the others. He found the part he had ordered and turned back to the Camaro, glancing outside and catching a glimpse of a '67 Chevy Impala he thought he had seen almost two months ago in… Was it that salvage yard in South Dakota where he'd met the Winchesters and Bobby Singer? He moved to the nearest open door, but the Impala was already out of sight, so Thomas gave a shrug and went back to work. If the Winchesters really _were_ here, then he was bound to run into them sooner or later, especially if they happened to be on the same case as Gerald.

He wondered how the Winchesters were doing in the aftermath of their father's death, Sam in particular. Thomas had suffered more than a few nightmares after his time being possessed, and he was sure he couldn't even _begin_ to imagine what Sam was going through. He at least hoped the youngest Winchester was off the demon blood and back to some semblance of normal, or at least something that half-way passed as normal-ish in the life of a Hunter.

"Hey, Humphrey," yelled Harry Tolman, the owner of the shop Thomas worked in. "Stop day-dreamin', would ya? I told Mr. Bank the Camaro would be done today when he got off work at four."

"Right," Thomas said, pulling himself out of his thoughts with a shake of his head. "Sorry, man."

Harry just rolled his eyes and gestured for Thomas to get back to work.

As he went about putting on the new part, Thomas allowed his mind to drift again. It had been relatively easy to slide back into his life before the demon, but it really didn't feel the same as it once had. Yeah, he'd always known about the world of the supernatural, but it had never really touched his life before that demon came along. Terrence, his father, hadn't wanted him to know about the things that go 'bump' in the night, but he couldn't shut his brother out of his life, not when Gerald's wife had been killed by a werewolf before they could have any kids. And even though Gerry was in and out a lot, he had still doted on Thomas growing up, had taught him to defend himself and managed to set time aside to visit as often as possible.

It was Lorraine, Thomas' mom who was struggling to cope with everything. She had always presumed Gerald was in the CIA or something, never once suspecting that there was a whole other world she knew nothing about until it stole her only son away from her. Thomas was pretty certain things were going to be awkward between her and Gerald for some time to come, but maybe she could be convinced to take precautions against what was out there. Thomas remembered Bobby Singer telling him that the number of demonic possessions were increasing exponentially and honestly, he was terrified of something bad happening to his parents after what he'd gone through.

_I'm not paranoid,_ he thought, _I'm just prepared to protect me and mine from what's out there._ Feeling a new rush of determination, Thomas refocused on the Camaro in front of him.

* * *

**Memphis, Tennessee**

"The Winchesters?"

Gordon nodded and Finn Carlton stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Those two aren't the socializing type," he said after a moment. "I mean, I seen 'em a time or two at the Roadhouse in Nebraska, but they don't talk to much of anyone outside of Ellen, Jo and that Ash kid." He shook his head. "Ran into the taller one in the restroom last week, kid slipped and hit his head, but he refused my help and insisted on getting back to his brother."

"Any idea what they were doin' last time you saw them?" Gordon asked, but Finn shook his head.

"They went into a back room, left maybe twenty minutes later." He shrugged. "Didn't see or hear what they were doin' before the kid slipped, either, but another guy, Boris? He said they were lookin' at some kids Ash looked up for 'em."

"He hear any names?" Gordon pressed, and Finn frowned.

"Why are you tryin' to find 'em?" he asked, instead. "I mean, their daddy was an obsessed bastard of a Hunter, but he was a damn fine one and I hear them boys is just as good, even better than."

"They are excellent Hunters," Gordon said softly, "but they know more about things than they're letting on."

"Things?" Finn echoed.

"You notice how demonic possessions are on the rise?" asked Gordon, and Finn nodded. "There's something goin' on, Finn. Demons are preparing for all-out war, and the Winchesters? They know more than anyone else about their plans, but they ain't telling nobody." Gordon leaned forward. "I just want answers, you see? We all need to be prepared, but we don't have a fuckin' clue what to expect. Sam and Dean? They do."

Finn nodded after a long moment, and Gordon knew he'd convinced the other Hunter. "Boris heard one name," he finally said. "Scott Carey."

Gordon nodded, feeling fairly certain that Sam and Dean had been looking for other psychics. He decided to assume Carey was the same age as Sam, because a name like that was a little too common otherwise. He thanked Finn for his time and set out to do some more research. One way or another, he was going to find Sam and this Scott kid, along with every other psychic child like them and take them out. The demons were _not_ going to overrun this planet, he swore to himself. He'd do whatever it took to see to that.


	4. Meetings

Scott Carey stared morosely at the inside of his closet at the building collage of yellow eyes. He knew he was probably obsessing over this too much, but the idea of using his strange ability to kill people was beyond bothersome. In fact, he was pretty certain he would sooner slit his wrists than touch another being ever again.

That poor cat…

He continued to stare at the back wall of his closet, wondering if he might really be going insane. People just didn't _have_ dreams like that, not in real life. Then again, people weren't able to do what he could, either, so the boundaries between fact and fiction were getting more than a little blurred. Honestly, he wished that someone could just come along and take it all away. He didn't like this depression, this fear of _touching_ others. His father was worried about him, it was easy to tell, but the struggle to get out of his room and face the world was getting harder to win. It was easier to hide away, to sever contact.

Of course, the world couldn't just leave him alone, could it?

His father seemed so convinced that the two men standing in the foyer were friends from high school, but Scott knew they weren't. He was more than prepared to point it out, but then he caught the expression on the taller one's face, and he paused. There was something in those eyes that he saw in his own whenever he could bring himself to look in the mirror. "We need to talk in private," he told his father before leading the two men up to his room. He really didn't understand why he was doing this, but there was just something about that man's eyes that told him that he already knew and understood everything.

Did he dream about the man with the yellow eyes, too?

"I'm Sam," the taller man said, "and this is my brother Dean."

"Hey," Scott said with the best smile he could muster, dropping onto his bed. After a moment, Sam joined him and Dean took the desk chair across from them.

"So uh," Sam said after another moment, "I'm just gonna come right out and say it." He met Scott's eyes. "You can do things," he said, "things you thought were impossible, and it stared almost a year ago after you turned 22."

Yeah, that pretty much summed it up. Scott nodded, keeping his hands close to his body. "I electrocute things," he said hesitantly. "Just one touch and they get fried." He glanced at Dean. "I shocked a few people before I killed the neighbor's cat on accident."

Dean winced sympathetically and Scott turned back to Sam. "What about you?" he asked, curious. "Do you do the same thing?"

"No," Sam said, "well, I haven't so far, anyway." Scott shot him a curious look. "I have visions," he answered after a pause, "visions about other kids like us, only they've been killing people."

And wasn't _that_ just comforting to hear. "Did they have dreams from the yellow-eyed man, too?" he asked, somehow just _knowing_ that Sam and Dean knew what he was talking about.

"It's a demon," Dean said, and Scott frowned incredulously. "I know," the older man continued after a moment, "it sounds impossible, but so does electrocution by touch and visions of people dying, let alone the other things."

He had a fair point, Scott had to admit that. "So, demons are real," he said slowly.

"Yeah," Sam said. "This one's name is Azazel. We've only met one other kid apart from you who was visited by him in their dreams, and he killed a few people before getting shot."

"Wait, so you _don't_ have dreams from him?"

There was a shadow that passed over Sam's face. "I dream _about_ him," he said softly, "but we've met in real life." He swallowed and met Scott's eyes. "He killed your mom when you were exactly six-months-old," he said. "Same thing happened to our mom, too."

"What?" As if Scott wasn't already overwhelmed by what he was hearing. "Why?"

"He's trying to build an army," Dean answered shortly. "Fed you demon blood the night your mom died so he could turn you into a soldier, make you fight on his side."

There was a long moment of silence. It was a lot to take in, but Scott couldn't keep himself from believing these two.

"This is sick," he finally murmured with a shake of his head. "I mean, demon blood?" He looked up at Sam. "Weird abilities? I can't bring myself to _touch_ another living creature because I'm terrified of killing them on accident! And this demon, this _Azazel_ guy, he _wants_ me to kill?"

"Pretty much," Dean said.

"So what are you two, then?" Scott asked, looking between the brothers. "The heroes of this story or something?"

"Makes us sound pretty damn awesome," Dean said to Sam, who snorted softly.

"I guess you could put it that way," he said to Scott. "Me and my brother, we're trying to find other psychics like you and me, trying to get to them before they give in and do what Azazel wants."

"Fighting for the worst bad guys ever," Scott muttered. "God, this all sounds so fuckin' crazy, you know?"

"Yeah," Sam said, "we know."

"Okay," Scott said after another moment, clasping his hands together, "so how do we avoid becoming soldiers?"

"I guess you've been doin' pretty good, so far," Dean said, "avoiding touching people until you get better control of it. Your dad said you're really reclusive now, though, and that ain't so healthy."

"Does wearing gloves make a difference?" Sam asked, and Scott snorted.

"Who am I now, Rogue?" he asked before shrugging. "I haven't tried that, to be honest. I just…" He met Sam's eyes. "I don't wanna hurt my dad."

He could tell Sam understood without saying a word, and the three of them lapsed into silence. Eventually, another question rose to the forefront of Scott's mind.

"So, there are a bunch of psychic kids running around without any mothers?" he asked. "Did Azazel kill them all?"

"No," Sam said softly. "He only killed the ones who walked into their child's nurseries and interrupted the whole 'feed us demon blood' thing." He blinked a few times. "There are four of us, total who lost our moms like that."

"Who are the other two?" Scott asked.

"Andy Gallagher and Max Miller," Dean answered. "Max committed suicide a few months back, and Andy ended up shooting his evil twin, the other kid who Azazel visited in his dreams."

"Evil twin?"

"Trust me," Dean said, "that's _exactly_ what he was. Andy and Anson, his twin? They're Jedi masters, total mind control thing."

"Why couldn't I have that?" Scott said, disgruntled. "That'd be a hell of a lot easier to deal with than 'I touch people and they fry from the inside out'."

"There's a girl in San Diego who stops hearts with a touch," Sam offered.

"Wait, how d'you know that one?" asked Dean with a frown.

"Oh," Sam said, blinking. "Vision in my sleep just over a week ago. It had already happened by the time I looked the girl up."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Dean asked. In that moment, it became very clear to Scott that Dean really _was_ the classic older and protective brother. He kinda wished he'd had someone like that growing up. "Is that why you've been doing research at all hours of the night?"

"Dean —" And you know what? Sam _did_ look beyond exhausted.

"No, we're not putting this off," Dean cut in, and Sam clamped his mouth shut, looking both annoyed and chagrined. "You're really using all that research of Dad's to try and find the others, aren't you?"

"There's a pattern, I can tell there is," Sam said earnestly, "it's just hard to work through."

"So instead of knocking yourself out to avoid the nightmares, or even _talking_ about 'em so they go away, you're overworking yourself during all those hours where you don't sleep," said Dean, and Scott felt real fear for the man. Maybe protective big brothers weren't all that great, after all.

"Dean, I —"

"What, Sam? What excuses could you _possibly_ offer to make me believe you're not trying to push yourself to the point that you shatter?"

Sam glared at Dean for a long moment, and Scott got the feeling that there was a lot of back-story to their conversation. "I'm just trying to help the other psychics," he said quietly.

"Which you can't do if you're _dead_." Dean's green eyes were hard as he stared at his younger brother. "You felt like you were losing me, Sammy, but I feel like I'm right on the _verge_ of losing you, and I can't do that. Not again."

No one said anything for a very long time.

"So," Scott said very hesitantly, "what now?"

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You keep resisting Azazel," he said, "and you find a way to live your life with your ability."

"Feels more like a curse," Scott muttered.

"None of it feels like a blessing to me," Sam replied, "and I'm capable of a lot more than just visions."

"Really?" Scott stared at Sam. "But I thought —"

"I said I met Azazel in real life," Sam said. "I don't know why, but I'm his favorite, and he…" Scott watched as Sam swallowed looked away, bouncing one leg and pulling his left arm close to his body with his fist clenched. "We're all capable of a lot more than the one ability we got last year," he finally said, "and I ended up forcing the other abilities out to save my life. I've got inhuman strength, telekinesis, and the mind control thing, but I also think I might be empathic, too."

"Wait, what?"

"You make a habit of not telling Dean things like this?" Scott asked dryly and Sam sighed.

"I wasn't sure at first about that one," he said to Dean, "it's been pretty sporadic, but I think it's another one to add to the list."

"Great," Dean said sarcastically. "Feeling other's emotions, that's just... terrific."

"Anyway," Sam said, "the whole 'unlocking' thing, it's really only supposed to happen when you accept it." He paused before adding, "But that means you accept being a soldier in Azazel's army."

"Which you don't, I'm guessing," Scott said.

"No, I don't," said Sam with a shake of his head. "That's why the empathy thing's so sporadic right now. I have to learn how to control each new ability that I get until I master it, and then I can take on the next one. Well, not the visions," he added after a moment, "I'm not sure it's even _possible_ to control those, but everything else I've been working on."

Scott nodded silently. "I _don't_ wanna accept it if that's where the road leads," he said.

"Good," said Dean firmly. "Now, how about you try the glove thing and go touch another cat?"

"Dean!" Sam said sharply, but Scott couldn't help but laugh, and really, that felt more therapeutic than anything else that day.

* * *

Scott decided after his dad called it an early night to go and get the groceries the next evening. The glove idea actually worked, and yeah, it looked a little weird, but if it meant he could go back to living his life the way he wanted to, then it was worth it, right?

The parking lot was devoid of people when he exited the grocery store, but that wasn't anything new this late in the evening, so he continued over to his car and started loading in the groceries. Suddenly, an arm wrapped around his throat and he felt the cold tip of a gun against his skull.

"You the Scott Carey who Sam Winchester visited?" asked a deep voice in his ear.

"What? Who are you?"

"Answer the question!" the voice said, and Scott heard the gun cock.

"Oh, God!" he gasped, trying to jerk away unsuccessfully. "Please man, I haven't done anything wrong ever! Just lemme go!"

"Were you visited by Sam Winchester?" the voice demanded, rising in volume.

"Yeah, yes, okay? Please, just let me go!"

The arm released him and he stumbled against the side of his car.

"Why was he visiting you?" Scott turned to see a tall, black man staring at him, the cocked gun still in one hand, still pointed right at him.

"Wha…" Scott shook his head in confusion.

"You're one of those psychic kids, aren't you?" the man asked, voice _way_ too calm for the situation.

"Psychic…" Scott gasped for breath, feeling terrified beyond words. "What're you talkin' about, man?"

The man raised his eyebrows. "It's not cold enough to be wearing gloves just yet," he pointed out. "What is it you can do, kid?"

"I don't…" Scott shook his head in denial. This couldn't be happening. This man wasn't going to kill him, was he?

"Just tell me what it is that you can do," the man said quietly, "and I'll put the gun down."

After a moment, Scott nodded and said, "I can electrocute things, fry 'em from the inside out."

The man stared at him for a long moment. "Good to hear," he finally said, resetting the safety on the gun and putting it down on the ground.

Scott breathed a sigh of relief.

_And then the man rushed forward and stabbed him with a knife that came out of nowhere._

One hundred and eighty-odd miles away, Ava Wilson woke in a cold sweat.

* * *

"It's a good thing those gloves worked," Dean commented to Sam as they returned to their hotel. "Otherwise, poor Mr. Tinkles…"

Sam snorted. "I'm sure he'll eventually gain enough control that he can refrain from killing people if he doesn't want to." They went inside their room and Dean dropped the bag of take-out on the table.

"You're eating before you go diving into any more research," he said firmly, and really, Sam was too tired to argue with him. They ate in relative silence and then Dean watched TV while Sam returned to working on his laptop.

"I'm surprised he was so willing to listen," Dean said idly after some time.

"It's 'cause he could sense a kindred spirit," Sam muttered distractedly as he looked over some articles that might contribute to his search.

"Kindred spirit?" Dean said with a snort.

"Look," Sam sighed, looking up at his brother, "the mind control thing doesn't work on other psychics, right? The only thing I had goin' for me was that I understood what he was goin' through and he could sense that, just by looking at me." Dean shot him a look. "I know that sounds weird, but that's just what I read off him when he looked me in the eyes."

"Read off him?" Dean echoed.

"That empathy thing," said Sam, "remember that one?"

"Oh," said Dean. "I guess that's one way of putting it."

He didn't say anything else so Sam returned to his research a few more hours before Dean convinced him to turn in for the night.

* * *

One night of vocal dreams could be considered understandable. Two in a row, however, made Heidi Fulmer worry. A lot.

The moment Ryan's moaning started up, Heidi was awake and out of her bed. She didn't know what was going on, but she was stopping it before it could go any further. Donning her bathrobe, she quickly moved from her room and into Ryan's. His t-shirt was already damp with sweat, but his covers hadn't been kicked off entirely, so Heidi was able to avoid thinking about the night before, about the idea that Ryan was having intense wet dreams, because that just wasn't her son. He _never_ talked in his sleep.

"Oh God," Ryan gasped out between moans as Heidi moved closer. "Please, _please,_ don't stop, fuck, so good —"

This wasn't happening, Heidi told herself as she reached forward and started shaking Ryan's shoulders. She felt that shudder pass through her again, but she couldn't bring herself to look over at the mirror. Not this time. "Ryan, honey, wake up!"

Ryan's eyes shot open and he bolted upright, almost ramming into Heidi.

"Mom?" His brown eyes searched hers. "Again?"

Heidi nodded silently. "Honey," she said softly, taking a seat on the edge of Ryan's bed, "I hate saying this, but you look awful, really exhausted."

"I was asleep, wasn't I?" Ryan asked with a frown.

"Yes, but…" Heidi carded a hand through her blonde curls. "Do you remember your dreams at all? I mean…" And here she started fumbling, trying to figure out what to say. God, she missed Gregory so much right now. "You sound like you're having intensely vocal wet dreams," she blurted, and Ryan's pale face heated up in the darkness of his room.

"Mom!" he said, looking completely mortified.

"I'm sorry," Heidi said at once, "but there's no other way to say it. The things you were saying in your sleep, Ryan, I just…" She trailed off again and dropped her head into her hands. "Are you sure you're okay?" she finally asked. "You really look like you're right in the middle of a cold."

She looked up as Ryan shrugged. "I'm a little tired, but nothing like when I'm sick." He scrubbed his face with his hands. "I really _am_ fine, Mom," he said. "I promise."

Heidi nodded, dropped a kiss on Ryan's sweaty forehead and left his room, the worry in her heart only increasing. If anything happened to her boy, she didn't know what she'd do. Ryan was all she had left in the world.

* * *

**Peoria, Illinois**

The grocery store was a pretty specifically named one, Ava thought as she pulled up a search window on her browser the next morning. She closed her eyes and tried to think if there had been any other clues that might tell her if that dream had been something totally random, or a vision of something yet to come.

"God, I _must_ be goin' crazy," she muttered. Not that talking to herself made her feel any more sane…

There had been a street name, right? She tried to remember… Sagamore Parkway? Ava typed in the street and the name of the store, and when she got a match, it was more than a little freaky.

Could that mean that this Scott Carey was real, too?

Ava pulled up a white pages web site, typed in Scott's name. "Lafayette, Indiana," she said under her breath as she typed up the location. Funnily enough, she got a hit. Then came the sticky question. Should she try to warn him? Would he even believe her?

It occurred to Ava that calling would be the easiest option, but she had to see him for herself, make sure that he was, indeed, real. So, she called her boyfriend at work to cancel their dinner plans that evening, packed up some food and drinks, and jumped into her little bug. "Lafayette," she said as she got on I-74, "here I come."

* * *

When Gordon saw the Impala parked at the Blue Rose Motel, he immediately set out to find the next closest motel and then returned on foot to scope out what the Winchester's were doing. He knew he ought to be getting some sleep after driving all night just to get here, but if they were here, then chances were that they had already been in contact with this Scott kid.

Not that it really mattered much; Scott was still going to die one way or another. After spending a couple hours to make sure that the Winchester's weren't going anywhere just yet, Gordon set off to catch a quick nap before going to find Scott. His plan was simple. Tail the kid until he could get him alone, then kill him. And once that was over with, Sam was his next target.

* * *

Gerald had been surprised when Lorraine offered up the guest room in her home when he arrived in town the day before. After all, he had dumped a whole world of evil on her head by checking on Thomas the month before and asking for the truth. He liked the idea of amnesia, but it was pretty rare for someone who had been possessed as long as Thomas had to not remember a damn thing, especially when said person already knew about the world of the supernatural.

Breakfast was awkward this morning. Gerald wasn't the least bit surprised.

"So, what brings you?" Lorraine finally asked politely, though a bit stiffly.

"Possible case," Gerry answered. "Something's killing teenage boys here in town, and I'm lookin' to find what's doin' it so I can stop it."

"Oh," said Lorraine, blue eyes wide. "I see. That's… nice."

Terrence gave a cough that mean he was hiding a laugh and looked anywhere but at his older brother. "Any idea what's doing it?" he asked after a moment.

"Could be a few things," Gerald answered with a shrug. "I'm visiting the parents of the most recent victim, see if I can't get more outta them. I think there was something they weren't saying that the police didn't catch onto."

"How are you going to convince them to talk to you?" Lorraine asked.

"I'm goin' in as the FBI," Gerald replied with a grin, and Lorraine's eyes actually widened further than he had ever thought possible.

"You're not using a fake I.D., are you?" she asked incredulously.

Gerald gave another shrug. "Welcome to my world, Lori," he said as honestly as he could. "The pay sucks, but I'm savin' lives and I don't exactly care what it takes to accomplish that." He took a bite of his food. "Tom workin' today?"

"Yeah," Terrence said, still not looking up. "Big job on a Mustang or something."

"I see," Gerald said. "How's he been doin' since I saw you guys last?"

"All right," Terrence said. "Honestly, we wanted him to move back in with us after everything, but he insisted he was fine." He finally met Gerald's eyes. "There's salt on every windowsill in that apartment," he said, "and he's been doin' research on other forms of protection. D'you know a Bobby Singer?"

Gerald thought. "Yeah, he's in South Dakota, knows a lot about demons and shit. Lot of us go to him for resources and information."

Terrence nodded. "Tom's been in contact with him since he came home. I'm guessing Bobby's place is where the Winchester's were when they found and saved him."

"Wouldn't surprise me," Gerald said, "Bobby and John were close friends over the years. Makes sense that they were stayin' there when they found 'im."

Conversation lapsed into silence after that, and once he had had his fill, Gerald set out to go and interview the three families that had lost their sons. After that, he had every intention of meeting up with Thomas and catching up. Hell, if he could get the kid's help on this case, that'd be even better, but one way or another, the thing that was killing Lafayette's teenage boys was goin' down.


	5. The Sunrise Diner

Ava reached Layafette in the early afternoon and decided to grab some food before finding this Scott kid. After all, she had until sundown before he died, right? She pulled up to a place called the Sunrise Diner and headed inside, accidentally tripping and bumping into a very tall man who was standing in the lobby.

"Oh, sorry!" Ava apologized at once as the man carefully grabbed her arms and helped her to steady herself.

"It's fine," the man said, and Ava finally raised her head to get a good look at him. He stood well over six feet tall and had longish, shaggy, dark brown hair that he pushed from his face to reveal hazel eyes.

It was the eyes that really drew her attention. She couldn't describe it, exactly, apart from the idea that this man, whoever he was, knew things, maybe even had answers to the questions in her mind. "I'm Ava," she said without thinking and stuck out a hand.

The man stared at her for a moment before smiling and revealing the most adorable dimples Ava had ever seen as he reached out to take her hand. "I'm Sam," he said. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah," Ava said.

"Sammy, you comin' or what?" called another man as he exited the restroom, and Ava leaned around Sam to see that this man was a few inches shorter with close-cropped light brown hair and intense green eyes.

"Yeah, sorry," Sam said, releasing Ava's hand. "That's my brother, Dean," he said. "Anyway…"

"I should let you get goin' there," Ava said, feeling intensely embarrassed. "Sorry about that clumsy moment, Sam."

"It's fine, Ava," Sam said, "really." He turned to walk away, but not before Ava caught sight of his left arm. The sleeves of his plaid shirt had been rolled up to reveal a thick bandage on his forearm, and his hand was trembling slightly. Ava had never seen anything like it.

After a moment, Ava decided to forgo her nervousness and worry over how stalker-like she was about to seem, and seated herself near the two brothers. She couldn't figure out why she suddenly felt so drawn to Sam, but she somehow knew she needed to talk to him, get to know him. She ordered a coke from the waitress before mulling over how best to start some kind of conversation with them. As it turned out, however, that was completely unnecessary.

* * *

"So," Dean said, startling Sam, "you lived here long, Ava?"

Sam looked around and was surprised to see that the short brunette who had bumped into him just minutes earlier was seated at the table next to their booth. Dean had the glint in his eye that meant he was _definitely_ interested in her and snorted softly. He could already tell that she was taken.

"I'm actually just visiting," Ava said, and Sam watched as she twisted her fingers together nervously. "You know, checking up on a friend, see how they're doing."

"Yeah?" Dean said, nodding. "That's cool."

"And you two?" asked Ava as the waitress returned with drinks.

"Visiting family," said Dean before taking a sip of his soda.

"Oh?" Ava said, turning to face Dean a little more. "Well, do you two know the layout of the place pretty well? Only it's my first time driving here and I'm not entirely sure how to find this address." She reached into her purse, pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to Sam, who happened to be closer. He took one look at it and felt the bottom of his stomach drop out.

It was Scott Carey's address.

"Scott Carey?" Sam said before he could stop himself. "You know him?"

Ava was startled. "I — uh, well… Yeah! Yeah," she repeated with a small laugh, "we were friends back i-in junior high before my family moved to Illinois."

Ava's emotions were all over the place, but nervousness, fear and suspicion were at the top of the list. Sam looked into Ava's blue eyes and realized he could see it. It wasn't as strong as it had been in any of the other psychics he had met, but she had it, too.

Dean was looking between the two of them blankly, but confusion was just rolling off him and Sam was starting to get a headache.

"I don't think you're telling the truth," Sam said slowly, and Ava looked very alarmed all of a sudden. "Are you —?" He broke off, unsure he should ask. What if she wasn't another psychic?

Dean, however, seemed to catch on and took the matter out of his hands. "Are you psychic?" he asked bluntly and Ava startled, almost knocking her drink over.

"What?" she said a little hysterically. "No! No, I'm not a mind reader."

"Okay," Dean said, "but maybe you can do something else, like sense emotions or move objects or visions or something."

The spike in Ava's emotions at the word "visions" pretty much answered the question for Sam. "You had a vision about Scott dying, didn't you?" he asked softly.

"Who… who are you two?" Ava finally asked.

"We're people who know things," said Dean, after exchanging a look with Sam, "strange things that seem impossible."

"We can help, Ava," said Sam, leaning forward slightly and catching Ava's eyes. "Just tell us what you saw and we can help to stop it."

Ava swallowed. "You gonna tell me how you guessed?" she asked, and Sam smiled.

"Yeah," he said, "but we gotta make sure Scott's okay, first, all right?"

After a very long moment, Ava nodded, snagged her drink and forced Sam to scoot over so she could join him and Dean at their booth.

"Okay," she said, "so Scott was getting groceries, and when he walked out of the store, there weren't any people outside, but then this guy comes out of nowhere and he's holding a gun to his head and asking —" She broke off and frowned. "Sam Winchester?" she asked, looking up at Sam.

"Yeah," Sam said slowly. "That's my name."

Ava nodded slightly, still staring at him. "The man wanted to know if you'd been in contact with Scott," she finally continued. "Scott said he had, and the man backed away, but he still had the gun pointed right at him. Then he asked what he could do, said he'd put the gun down if Scott told him, and he told him, and he — the man put the gun down, but then he had a knife and he —" She broke off again with a choked sob and raised one hand to her mouth. "He _killed_ him!" she whispered.

"Ava," said Dean firmly, "can you remember anything about the man with the gun? What he looked like?"

"Uh, well, he was black," Ava said after a moment, "and he was tall, but I dunno…" She sighed and took a sip of her drink. "There was something about his eyes," she said softly. "It's that look you see in racists and homophobes, y'know? That… that sheer _hatred_ of anything different from you."

"Shit," Dean said after a long moment, meeting Sam's eyes. "It's Gordon."

* * *

"Wet dreams?" Gerald asked. "Are you sure?"

Edna Monroe nodded tearfully. "Every night for a week," she said, her voice choked up with sobs. "He was looking more and more tired with every day that passed, and he _said_ he was sleeping, but the sounds he made…" A sob finally broke free and Edna buried her face in her handkerchief.

"It's all right, Mrs. Monroe," Gerald said as gently as he could manage. "Take your time, there's no rush…"

Edna nodded tearfully and wiped at her face before continuing. "His appetite increased during the last few days," she said, voice shaking. "It was like he was expounding too much energy and needed a way to recharge himself."

Gerald nodded. "The police report says the night he passed, he was screaming in…" He paused to consult the notes he'd brought with him, "in 'painful ecstasy'."

"Yes," Edna choked out. "I'd never heard anything like it, and when we got down there and saw all that blood…" Sobs burst free once more. "My baby boy," she cried softly. "I still can't believe he's gone…"

Gerald felt bad for Edna. To lose your only child had to be a hard thing to go through. Still, he was feeling pretty confident about what had killed Cory Monroe and the others.

A succubus. Nasty, kinky little bitches from Hell.

After leaving the Monroe's, Gerald decided a call to his nephew was in order. Lorraine said he got off work around four o'clock, and sure enough, Thomas answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Uncle," he said, sounding happy. "How's the job goin'?"

"Figured out what's doin' it," Gerald answered. "It's a damn succubus."

Thomas inhaled a sharp breath over the line. "That's not good," he said. "I think I already found its next victim, though."

"Really?" Gerald hadn't expected that.

"One of the guys I work with," Thomas answered, "eighteen years old, name's Ryan Fulmer. He looked perfectly healthy two days ago, but ever since yesterday, he's looked really tired like he's right in the throes of a bad cold, really distracted and stuff."

"Sounds like he's the right kid," Gerald said. "Good call on catching him so quick, Tom. Wanna meet up for some food? I never had lunch and I'm not really in the mood to go another round of awkward conversations with your mother."

"Sure," Thomas said. "How about that diner you always took me to as a kid?"

"The Sunrise Diner? Sounds good to me."

"Great, I'll see you there in a bit." Gerald flipped his cell phone shut and started the engine of his red '66 Pontiac GTO.

When he arrived, Thomas was already waiting for him. "Hey, Gerry," he said, and they hugged briefly. "How you been?"

"The same as always," Gerald answered, smiling. "It's good to see you, son."

Thomas nodded and they headed inside.

"So, how do you kill a succubus?" he asked as they headed toward the back of the diner for their usual table.

"Honestly, you don't," Gerald sighed. "They're a type of demonic presence, so the best you can do is perform an exorcism of sorts. The trick is you have to do it without telling the victim you're going to do it, or the damn bitch'll figure it out and try to kill everyone in the vicinity —"

"Sam?" Thomas suddenly said, stopping short. "Dean?" Gerald looked around his nephew to see two men and one woman sitting in a booth together. Both men appeared startled by Thomas' appearance.

"Thomas?" the one with the shorter hair said, sounding surprised.

"Yeah," Thomas said. "You found Sam, I just — wow." He shook his head. "I didn't think you and Sam were here, but here you are."

"Wait," said the man who had already spoken, "you live here?"

"Yeah," Thomas answered.

"You said got jumped down in Texas," the man pointed out.

Thomas nodded. "I was on a trip to visit a friend," he explained. "How are you two doing, anyway? I uh…" He glanced at Gerald. "I heard about your dad."

Both men looked away. "I'm sorry," Thomas offered quietly, "he was a good man."

"He was," said one, running a hair through his messy locks.

"Is this the uncle you were telling me about?" the other asked, leaning forward and catching Gerald's eye.

"Oh, yeah, this is my uncle Gerald," Thomas said quickly. "He's doin' a job here in town. Gerry, Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Hey," Dean said. "What're you looking at?"

"Succubus," Gerald answered shortly. "What are you two doin' here? There's nothing else goin' on around here that calls for more'n a Hunter or two."

"Oh, well…" Dean trailed off and looked over at Sam, and Gerald could see a silent conversation taking place as the two stared at each other. He dimly noticed the woman looked very uncomfortable and horribly confused, but she was keeping silent, so she probably wasn't a Hunter at all. Oh, well.

"We're tracking another Hunter," Sam said abruptly, meeting Gerald's eyes. "He's gone crazy, going around and killing kids he claims are gonna be soldiers in an upcoming war, but on the side of demons."

"Seriously?" Thomas said, and Sam nodded and raised his left arm.

"He thought I was one," he said, pulling off the bandage and gesturing to the line of stitches on his arm.

"So," Gerald said after a moment, "what's your plan to stop him?"

Sam smiled. "I'm playing bait," he said with a shrug. "We're gonna get the cops to arrest him and put him away."

"What?" the girl finally said. "Sam, you never said —"

"I said we're gonna help the next kid the guy's targeting," Sam cut in. "I'm grateful for your information, Ava, really, but you have no training to handle any of this."

"But —"

"I agree," Dean cut her off. "I'm sorry you had to witness him killing another, but we're glad you were able to get in contact with us. All the same, this ain't your battle, you belong back home in — where'd you say you were from again?"

"Peoria," Ava said softly.

"Wow, I didn't realize you'd driven that far," Dean said, looking genuinely surprised. "You have a life, Ava, and I swear you'll be able to live it. We'll save Scott and stop this monster, I promise you that."

"Anyway," Thomas said, "I think we'll take our leave, you've obviously got your own thing to do."

"Yeah," Dean said, but Sam nudged Ava out of his way.

"Actually, can I ask you something, Thomas?" he asked, eyes flickering between Thomas and Gerald. "Won't be more than a minute, I swear."

Thomas nodded and stepped away with Sam. Gerald watched them go before sighing and turning back to Dean. "Human soldiers fighting with demons," he said. "This Hunter seriously believes that?"

Dean nodded. "He tried to take out my little brother just because he was possessed by the yellow-eyed demon our dad spent years tryin' to find and kill," he said, and Gerald winced.

"Ouch, definite psycho," he said, and then Thomas and Sam returned, they said their good-byes to each other, and Thomas followed Gerald back to their normal table. "So, what was Sam asking you?"

"Oh, nothing, really," Thomas answered after a brief pause. "He said he remembered seeing me when he was possessed, wanted to make sure I was doin' all right, you know?"

Gerald nodded. "Seems like a good kid," he said.

"Yeah," Thomas said, "he does."

* * *

"What'd you do?" Dean asked the moment Sam sat down again.

"Told him never to tell," Sam said shortly. "I figured it was important enough, you know?"

Dean thought for a moment before nodding. "Yeah."

"So, what _are_ you two going to do?" asked Ava. "You can't be serious about being bait, Sam —"

"I hope it won't come to that," Sam said. "It's more important to keep him from killing Scott, but I _was_ serious about you goin' back home."

"But I wanna help," Ava said seriously.

"You have none of the training that we do," Dean said firmly. "We've spent our whole lives chasing demons and other things that go 'bump' in the night. One human Hunter isn't going to be that big a deal."

"But you said he's a psycho!" Ava pointed out. "Psycho's are unpredictable, all the movies say so!"

Sam chuckled. "We've tangled with him before," he said. "Trust me, we can handle him."

"You mean your arm?" Ava asked.

"Oh, no, that was someone else," Sam said dismissively, "it just seemed like a good thing to tell Gerald and Thomas."

"Wait," Ava said, "you lied to them?"

"Yeah," Sam said, "but since I can control minds, they believed me."

Ava's eyes widened. "You control minds?"

"Yeah, he does," said Dean, "and it's very useful when dealing with everyone that ain't psychic like you two."

"It doesn't work on me?" Ava asked, and Sam nodded. "Oh, well, I guess that's good, then."

"Look, Ava," Dean said, "you've got your own life back in Peoria. There's no reason for you to be a part of any of this."

"But I'm not totally certain it _is_ Scott this guy's going after," Ava pointed out. "That's why I came out here, to see if it _is_ him and to warn him."

Sam and Dean looked at each other. Dean didn't like this at all, but Ava _was_ the only one who could say for certain that it was indeed Gordon Walker going after Scott Carey.

"I don't like this," he told Ava, "so here's how it's gonna work. You stay long enough to confirm faces, and then you're _outta_ here, you understand me?"

Ava nodded at once as their waitress walked up with their food. It bothered Dean how this average, American girl was so eager to jump right into all the action when it was more than clear she'd never even seen a gun in real life. In fact, the way they suddenly seemed to be attracting psychic kids was a definite issue to him. None of this seemed quite right.

They ate their food in relative silence, and then Ava was settled in the Impala's back seat as they went back to Scott Carey's house, hopefully to save him from a man they'd never wanted to see again.

"Wait a minute," Ava suddenly said, "demons are real?"

Dean couldn't help it. He started to laugh.


	6. The Trap

Gordon parked at the opposite end of the block on the off chance that Sam and Dean showed up; they'd seen his car before, so clearly they'd recognize it and at least suspect he was here. With such thoughts in mind, he settled down to start observing the Carey residence.

Just as it was starting to get dark, Gordon saw the familiar black Impala pulling up to the house. He wasn't particularly bothered by this until he saw how hurried the Winchester boys movements were. And then a short girl climbed out of the backseat. This, more than anything else, surprised Gordon. The Winchester's weren't against working with other Hunters if they came across them, but considering the nature of their presence here, it did seem more than a little out-of-place from what he knew of their habits and behaviors.

"Seriously, though," the girl was saying, her voice echoing down the empty street, "demons? Ghosts? Ghouls? It sounds _crazy_." Ah, an outsider. Even stranger.

"Trust me, Ava," Sam said, turning to the girl, "we know, but it's what we've been doin' our whole life."

"Your entire life?" Ava sounded genuinely surprised. "This is your job? You get _paid_ to take out monsters?"

Dean huffed a laugh as they approached the front door of the Carey residence. "It ain't a pro-ball career, Ava," he said. "We get money from… other means."

Sam knocked on the front door. A minute later, the door opened. A few seconds after that, Sam, Dean and Ava stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind them. Gordon sighed in annoyance, but settled into his seat. He could wait.

* * *

"Sorry about the sudden appearance," Sam apologized the moment Scott shut the front door. "We think you're in danger."

"That's him!" Ava suddenly spoke up. "It's Scott, the guy from my vision." She stared up at Scott, who appeared more than a little bewildered by her presence. "You electrocute people?" she asked.

"Uh, who is this?" asked Scott.

"Ava Wilson," Dean announced. "She's another psychic."

"Oh," Scott said.

"She has visions, too," Sam added.

Scott stared down at Ava, who didn't seem to be the least bit intimidated by the fact that she was surrounded by three guys with at least six inches over her. "Am I going to die?" he asked after a long moment.

"No," Sam said at once, "just because Ava saw you die doesn't mean it's gonna happen."

"But —"

"Trust me," Sam cut Scott off, "I've been through this, I've kept Dean from dying when my visions said that he would. You're _not_ going to die."

Scott met Sam's eyes and he could see the worry and fear in them. More importantly than that, however, was the spark of trust Scott had in him. Sam only hoped he could keep living up to Scott's expectations.

"Okay," Scott finally said. "So, what do we do?"

"Well," Dean said, "until we can find and stop whoever it is that's wanting to gank you, you shouldn't go anywhere alone."

"So no shopping tonight," Ava put in and Scott blinked, mouth falling open a little.

"We're going to have to do a sweep of the neighborhood," Dean added to Sam. "If it _is_ Gordon, then chances are we'll find his car parked somewhere not too far off."

"Who's Gordon?" asked Scott.

"Psychopath," Ava said. "They know 'im."

"You know a psychopath?" Scott said dubiously.

"Met him on a vampire hunt," Dean explained. "Shit went wrong, and now we're not friendly."

"Wait, real vampires?" Ava asked, and her excitement and interest were so strong that it began to worry Sam. Here was an average girl who had lived an average life, but she was quickly developing an interest in the supernatural that seemed very intense for someone who had been unaware of what lay in the shadows until now. Most people just didn't _want_ to know about these things, even when they had no choice but to admit they existed.

"Yeah," Dean said, his emotions right on track with Sam's about Ava. "Anyway, the best thing to do is have Sam stay here with you while I drop Ava off at her car and do a sweep of the area. If it _is_ Gordon, and he shows up while I'm gone, Sam can easily fend him off. Just… Nothing reckless, all right?"

Sam nodded. "I still wanna help," Ava said, sounding a little petulant.

"You've done all you can," Dean said firmly. "The best you can do is get outta here before Gordon realizes you're part of the psychic club and comes after you, too."

Ava, of course, kept up her protests as Dean led her out of the house. "I'll do a sweep for Gordon after I get Ava outta here. Stay safe, Sam," he added before shutting the door and muffling Ava's voice.

"How long have you known her?" Scott asked after a moment.

"Just met her today," Sam answered with a sigh, leaning against the nearest wall and closing his eyes. He knew the fatigue from his poor sleeping habits was really taking its toll on him, but he had to stay alert, had to stay focused.

"You look like shit, Sam," said Scott after another moment had passed.

Sam snorted and opened his eyes. "Thanks," he said. "So, where's your dad?"

"Upstairs," Scott answered. "He doesn't usually go to bed this early, but he just didn't have the energy to go do the shopping tonight. I was gonna go do it myself, but then you guys showed up. Did you even sleep last night?"

Sam shrugged. "A little," he replied.

"I'm just wondering how you expect to do any protecting when it looks like a slight breeze could take you out," Scott said, leading Sam into the front room and dropping heavily onto the couch.

"I've done it before," Sam said, taking off his jacket and sitting down next to Scott. "My uh, my first vision was of my girlfriend being killed by a demon in the exact same way my mom died, but I just thought I was having nightmares until it happened for real."

Scott sucked in a sharp breath, but didn't say anything.

"After that," Sam managed to continue after a few seconds, "I could barely sleep for the first few weeks because of the nightmares her death left behind."

"How'd you get over it?"

"I'm not," Sam said shortly. "But," he added after a moment, "I started sleeping better after I had more visions and told Dean about them. And now…"

"Back to square one, I take it?"

Sam looked up at Scott and nodded silently. Neither one said another word for a few minutes.

Scott opened his mouth, probably to ask something else when strange, moaning sounds started to filter down from the upstairs. "That's my dad," Scott said, sounding panicked, and Sam shot to his feet, taking the stairs two at a time and following the sounds with Scott right behind him.

They burst into Mr. Carey's room, and what they saw stopped Sam right in his tracks.

* * *

Ava was sulking silently in the passenger seat, but since she had stopped speaking, Dean found he didn't much care. There was absolutely no reason for her to be involved, so the sooner she got out of harm's way, the better for her and for Dean's sanity.

_How did Gordon know we were here?_ The thought had crossed his mind before, but now he found he could give it proper attention. The man had obviously heard from some other Hunter, but who had overheard them? No one at the Roadhouse had been sitting that close to them when Ash had announced Andy and Scott's names to him and Sam, right? And then he wondered if Ellen, Jo or Ash had accidentally let something slip.

Well, there was only one way to find out, wasn't there? Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed, waiting for either Jo or Ellen to pick up.

Ash answered, and Dean knew there was something wrong from his tone of voice. "Where's Ellen?" he asked.

"She's in Philadelphia," Ash answered, sounding exhausted.

"What's she doin' out there?" Dean asked, frowning. Ava was starting at him questioningly, but he just ignored her.

"Uh, savin' Jo, I think."

"Why's Jo need savin'?"

"She found a case out there," Ash explained, "a bunch of blonde girls goin' missin' from the same apartment complex. Got in a big ol' fight with Ellen about it. Ellen didn't want her goin', wanted her to give the case to someone else, and Jo got angry and just took off to do it on her own three days back."

"And Ellen's out there because…?"

Ash gave a sigh over the line. "Jo's been keepin' in touch with me, but I couldn't reach her this mornin'. Finally caved in to tell Ellen where the apartment was, and she took off, got the first flight out there."

"Oh." Dean cursed inwardly. Ellen noticed more about the Hunters that frequented her place than anyone else. "Well, uh, have you heard anything recently about Gordon Walker?"

"The psychotic vampire Hunter?" Ash asked.

"Yeah, him," Dean said. "We think he's following us or just goin' after any psychic kids he can find. Or both."

"Oh," Ash said. "That sucks, but I haven't heard about him for months, man."

"Okay," said Dean, "then is there anyone who could've overheard us talkin' when we came through last week?"

"No, man," Ash replied. "Weren't no one sittin' that close to —" He suddenly broke off and was silent long enough to rankle Dean's nerves.

"Ash?"

"Boris Redford," Ash said after a moment. "I think he was sittin' two tables away, and for a fifty-year-old, he's got wicked hearing. He's the only one who coulda heard anything, Dean."

Dean sighed. He'd heard of Boris before, and he wondered if Boris was the type who could get along with Gordon. _Probably_ , he thought. "Okay, well I guess I'll just have to assume he overheard something, 'cause we're pretty damn certain Gordon's here in Lafayette, goin' after Scott Carey. D'you think you could call Andy Gallagher for me? Just to make sure he's still alive?"

"Sure thing," Ash said. "And Dean? Be careful, you know how dangerous Gordon is when he's certain he's in the right."

"I know," Dean said, "thanks, Ash." He snapped his phone shut just as they pulled up to the diner Ava's car was still at. "Okay, Ava," he said, turning to the short brunette. "End of the line."

"Are you sure there's nothing else I can do?" Ava asked.

"Yes, I am _very_ sure," Dean said, trying not to let his exasperation show. "You live a perfectly normal life, with parents who are still alive and, I'm even guessing, a boyfriend who loves you. Go home, kiddo. You may got the psychic mojo, but that don't mean you're meant to live the life that goes with it."

Ava stared at him for a long moment before her shoulders slumped and she nodded. "Okay," she said, opening the passenger door. "Just… You and Sam be careful, all right?"

"We will be," Dean said with a smile. "Don't worry about us."

Ava smiled and shut the door. She turned away and was about halfway to her car when a tall girl with dark hair and startling blue eyes came out of nowhere, wrapped one arm around Ava's shoulders and held a knife to her neck.

Dean was out of the Impala instantly. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Let her go!"

"Oh, you don't remember me?" the girl said. "What a shame."

Dean frowned, and then he felt an intense pressure on his heart that he hadn't felt since that day at the warehouse in L.A., and he started to gasp and choke. "I'm the one who almost killed you before your daddy made that Deal," the girl said, and her eyes flashed black.

The pressure released and Dean gasped for breath, one hand clutching at his chest where his heart was still beating a little too fast. "Name's Tara," the demon said in an off-hand kind of way. "I got to know your little brother pretty well two months ago, you know. I fed him regularly, hurt him a few times, and I'm even the one who made that lovely recording you and Daddy watched."

"What're you doin' here?" Dean asked, his voice still a little breathless. He suddenly realized he had dropped to his knees and struggled to stand up again.

"Just following orders," Tara said, and if it weren't for the knife she still held to Ava's throat, she could have sounded like she was just sitting down for a chit-chat, like two old friends that were catching up. Except they weren't friends. "How's Sammy doin' these days?" she asked. "We heard he's trying to make like a zombie and never sleep again."

"Shut up, bitch," Dean sighed as he fully righted himself (which took clinging to the Impala's hood to achieve, but no one needed to know that, right?). "Let Ava go, would you?"

Tara tilted her head as she considered. "All right," she said, suddenly shoving Ava hard in the direction of her car. "We weren't expecting her to come anyway, Karena told us her boyfriend was supposed to be proposing to her tonight at the dinner she apparently cancelled."

"What?" Ava gasped, turning back and staring at Tara. "Karena? My best friend, Karena? She's a demon, too?"

"She wasn't until we sent one to possess her about a month ago," Tara answered calmly. "Honestly, after we let Sam go, Azazel decided to send out more demons, have them keep tabs on all the others in case you and baby brother showed up. Which you have been," she added.

"So, who was it in Guthrie?" asked Dean.

"Oh, you didn't meet him," said Tara. "He's just one of Andy's friends in town. And Scott? It's his next-door neighbor Hillary Weston, she's the only person Scott's daddy is willing to talk to these days."

"What about the succubus in town?" Dean asked after a moment's thought. "I'm guessing you knew it was here."

"Of course," Tara said. "I sent it myself as a way to attract Thomas' uncle and get little Tommy's attention."

"Why?"

Tara grinned. "It's a good way to get rid of witnesses, like that Marian girl from Oregon," she said, and Dean felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. The first girl Sam had saved from possession was dead and the succubus was a death trap? Gerald and Thomas were going to walk right into it, none the wiser until it was too late. Why the hell had Tara done all of this? "I wouldn't worry about any of that, though," Tara added after a moment, catching Dean's attention once more. "I'd be more worried about Sammy."

Sam. "You leave my brother alone!" Deans shouted, taking a step forward, only to have Tara shove him back against the front bumper of his car with a wave of her hand. The backs of his legs protested when they slammed into the unforgiving metal.

"It's kinda funny," Tara said, staring at Dean with a slight frown on her stolen face. "I mean, you boys have _no_ idea what Azazel's end game is, and yet you keep trying to avert it."

"What's your point?" Dean snapped.

"I just wonder how you expect to see the means without the end," Tara answered with a shrug. "All this random, frantic action the two of you take."

"If it stops him, then anything we can do is worth it," Dean replied. Tara's frown deepened.

"My purpose here is to test Sam," she told Dean after a moment, slowly walking forward. He vaguely noticed Ava gawking from beside her own car, but since he'd already expected no help from the short girl, he refocused his attention on the demon in front of him. "We know he's completely detoxed of the blood we fed him, and we know he's unlocked the other psychic abilities, though in a way that causes them to be erratic until he can learn to control them one by one. Our little test here tonight is to see if he can sense a real-life demon nearby, to see if he's still attracted to demon blood. 'Cause I think," and she leaned right over Dean, forcing him to lay down completely on the Impala's hood, "deep down, your brother _loved_ the strength that came with his go-juice. And with you outta the way, he might just go for it again." Tara smiled darkly and held up her knife.

"Let's have some fun, in the meantime," she said, "shall we?"

* * *

Gordon watched an older woman and a teenager who looked to be her son leave their house across the street from the Carey's a couple minutes after Dean had taken off with Ava. He wondered if she might be another psychic; after all, it wasn't in a Hunter's nature to involve anyone who didn't need to be in a Hunt without reason.

He debated heading straight inside the Carey residence and taking out Sam and Scott here and now, but then he remembered Sam throwing Gordon off of him without touching more than his wrists. It had seemed like it was nothing to the boy, and really, Gordon didn't doubt that Sam was only staying in that house to act as Scott's protector. No, he needed the two separated so he could take out Scott and then tail Sam until he knew everything the boy was capable of.

Suddenly, a red '66 Pontiac GTO pulled up in front of the vacated house across the street from Scott's and Gordon's attention shifted. He knew that car, and sure enough, Gerald Humphrey climbed out, followed a moment later by a young man that looked to be related. Gordon remembered Gerald searching for his missing nephew two months ago and presumed that this was the Thomas he had spoken of. He kept still as the two men opened Gerald's trunk, pulled out some supplies like spray paint, salt and a thick tome that looked like it might contain exorcism rites.

Was there a Hunt here in Lafayette? Gordon suddenly regretted not checking out the local news better before driving here. Gerald and his nephew broke into the house, the door swinging shut silently behind them.

Was it only coincidence that there was a Hunt in the same town that the Winchesters and Scott Carey were in? Gordon began to rethink his position here and wondered if he shouldn't call for some back-up. There were plenty of Hunter's who would be on his side without hesitation. Kubrick would easily be one of them. He considered for another minute before making a decision and pulling out his cell phone.

That was when a window on the top floor of the Carey residence exploded outward and Sam Winchester came tumbling out, battling the scaly form of what was clearly a succubus.

* * *

"That was nice of your mother," Gerald commented once he and Thomas were inside the Fulmer residence, "giving out a last minute dinner invitation to get Heidi and Ryan out of the house. But, won't they question your absence?"

"No," Thomas said with a shake of his head. "Mom already told them that I'm spending time with my uncle who's in town for the weekend. Which is pretty much true, anyway, so I figured it works."

Gerald nodded. "Okay," he said, "so where's Ryan's room?"

Thomas led him to the correct bedroom and opened the window so the smell of spray paint wouldn't permeate the small space and make Ryan suspicious. He glanced out the window at the house across the street and briefly thought of Sam and Dean. Had they caught the psychotic Hunter yet?

"Let's get to work," Gerald said, and Thomas turned away to help him move Ryan's bed so they could spray a Devil's Trap onto the carpet underneath.

"So this'll catch it up like any other demon, then?" he asked

"Not exactly," Gerald answered. "The problem with succubi and incubi is that there haven't been as many cases of them attacking people as there's been regular demonic possessions. Fact is that most of the time, they get away and feed off the sexual energy they collected for decades before needing more. That this one is going after so many teenage boys, well, it strikes me as more than a little odd. Three kids dead in less than a month and a fourth being targeted?" He shook his head. "Anyway, the Trap won't contain it perfectly, but it it'll slow it down enough that I should be able to recite the exorcism without too much trouble."

"Sounds like it's trying to get attention," Thomas said, shaking up a can of red paint.

"Exactly," Gerald said, face grim. "That's why we're gonna strike with the exorcism I found the moment Ryan starts havin' his erotic encounter with the bitch."

Thomas winced in disgust. "I hate that we're putting Ryan through any more of this torture," he said.

"I know, son," Gerald sighed, "but he's the current victim, and if he knows about us doin' this, then the succubus will know, too, just as soon as she latches onto him again." He held out a hand for the spray paint and directed Thomas to lay salt lines along the windowsills, but to leave empty spots in each line they could easily seal up later.

"So, are we just gonna hide in the closet or something?"

"Yep," Gerald said, bending down and popping off the lid of the spray paint. He started to lay down the first markings when the sound of breaking glass attracted their attention. Thomas bolted to the opened window and was shocked to see Sam Winchester come tumbling out the second-story window across the street from Ryan's house. Even more shocking was the scaly creature he was wrestling with as they headed for the lawn below.

"Sam!" he shouted as the creature landed on the grass, Sam rolling off it and struggling to stand again.

"Sam from the diner?" Gerald asked, coming up beside him, and then his breath caught. "It's the succubus," he said softly. "But why's it over there?"

That was when the succubus managed to get into a crouch and stared straight into Thomas' eyes. For a sex demon, it was fucking ugly. It had a distinct feminine shape, but it was completely hairless with long, claw-like fingers and toes, and glowing green eyes. It was also a nude color, and boy, did it look really strong.

"It already knows we're here," Thomas breathed.

At that moment, Sam managed to sit up and threw out a hand. With an ear-splitting screech, the succubus flew across the lawn, slamming into a tree like it was pinned there.

"What the hell?" Gerald said loudly, and Thomas was suddenly struck by the memory of a Sam hopped up on demon blood using telekinesis to fling his body across the room before pinning it down and mentally exorcising the demon from inside of him. Was Sam still drinking demon blood? Or was this ability a part of something else entirely?

The front door of the house across the street flew open and a boy who looked to be Sam's age ran out. "Sam!" he yelled, voice panicked, and Sam looked his way.

Apparently, that was enough for his concentration to slip, because the succubus burst free from its position against the tree, causing it to topple into the next-door neighbor's car and setting off the car's alarm. And then the succubus was coming right at Thomas and there was nothing he could do to stop it _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love!


	7. The Demon's Trial

Kubrick knew that people thought he was crazy, overzealous, whatever. But he knew the truth. He was a warrior for God, and he was meant to kill all things that threatened God's creations. At the moment, he was in Vermont, tracking a skinwalker.

He had just sat down to eat some canned beans when his cell phone went off. Not a lot of people tended to call Kubrick, seeing as how he was "crazy" and all, so there were only a few people it could be. With a shrug, he pulled it out and flipped it open.

"Hello?" After a moment, his eyes went wide and he dropped his spoon into the paper cup of beans with a small splash. A few moments later, a grin spread across his face. "I'm after a skinwalker in Vermont right now, but I can call Creedy, get him up here to finish the job."

Kubrick stared down at his canned beans as he listened to the speaker. "I'll be there by tomorrow," he said. "Take care." He flipped his phone shut, grin still firmly in place. This newest Hunt sounded like a really fun one, and he fully intended to enjoy every moment of it. With renewed vigor, he dug into his food.

* * *

The moment the demon grabbed Ava and held a knife to her throat, she froze up, panicking over the thought that Gordon had followed her and was going to kill her.

When it turned out it was a demon, Ava found she was still terrified and on the verge of a complete breakdown, but she was able to move and struggle slightly. Not enough to get herself pricked on the knife, of course, but enough to reassure herself that yes, she was still alive and yes, this was actually happening.

Now she was standing next to her car as Tara slowly advanced on Dean, who couldn't move. Ava was guessing this was part of the demon's power. "My purpose here is to test Sam," Tara told Dean. "We know he's completely detoxed of the blood we fed him, and we know he's unlocked the other psychic abilities, though in a way that causes them to be erratic until he can learn to control them one by one."

Demons had fed Sam blood? What the hell? Ava's eyes were suddenly drawn to the knife that was still clutched in Tara's left hand, and then to a pick-up truck parked next to her car. For some reason, the tailgate had been left down, and when she leaned forward slightly, she could see part of a tire iron sticking out.

This was probably going to be the stupidest thing she had done since leaving Peoria.

"Our little test here tonight," Tara continued as Ava slowly made her way over to the truck and carefully lifted the heavy iron tool, "is to see if he can sense a real-life demon nearby, to see if he's still attracted to demon blood. 'Cause I think, deep down, your brother _loved_ the strength that came with his go-juice. And with you outta the way, he might just go for it again." Ava turned back to Tara as she held up her knife.

"Let's have some fun, in the meantime," she said, "shall we?"

"S&M," Dean said, sounding like he was all bravado and no show. "You kinky bitch."

Tara laughed and began to lift the knife up when Ava lunged forward and whacked one side of the tire iron across the back of the demon's head. She crumpled to the ground, completely unconscious, and Ava was left to stare at Dean, the iron tool still clutched in her hands.

"I did it," she whispered hoarsely. "I totally just saved your life."

A scowl crossed Dean's face, but she spotted the relief in his eyes, anyway. He hauled himself up off the hood of his car and bent down to check on Tara. "She's out," he said with a sigh, righting himself and striding around to the trunk. A minute later, Ava found herself helping to lift the unconscious demon into said trunk. There were no other people in the parking lot behind the diner, and no cars had driven by in ages. So, that meant there were no witnesses to see them stuffing a girl into the trunk of an old car.

This was turning into the most exciting day of Ava's life.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to a strange drawing on the floor of the trunk.

"Devil's Trap," Dean explained. "The bitch ain't goin' nowhere while I find somewhere else to stash her."

"Somewhere else?" Ava echoed.

"My weapon's are underneath Tara right now," Dean said with a shrug. "I'm gonna need 'em later. C'mon, we're heading to the motel and then back to Scott's."

"Wait," Ava said, "I thought you wanted me to leave."

"I do," Dean said shortly. "I'm just not so sure now is the best time."

"Oh," said Ava. "Okay, I'm cool with that."

"Shit," Dean muttered suddenly, reaching into a pocket and pulling out his cell phone. "Sam and Scott could be in trouble right now."

"But I thought he'll do fine against —"

"Demons are a completely different matter than humans," Dean cut Ava off. "That also applies to a succubus in the same area as a bunch of Hunters." He was holding his phone to his ear as he strode to the diver's side door of his car and pulled it open. Ava quickly headed for the passenger side and climbed in.

"Dammit!" Dean cursed, snapping his phone shut. "All I got was voicemail. Something's definitely wrong."

"Are we going there now?"

Dean sighed. "We need to get rid of the demon bitch in the trunk, first." He handed over his phone. "Keep callin', would ya?"

It wasn't until they reached the Blue Rose Motel, drew another Devil's Trap on the floor with spray paint and tied Tara up inside it that Ava remembered something else the demon had said in addition to the fact that one of her best friends was possessed by a demon.

"He was gonna propose tonight," she whispered, standing just outside the motel room's door.

"What?" said Dean, looking up from checking the knots that tied Tara to a chair.

"My boyfriend, Brady," Ava said. "She said he was planning to propose tonight at dinner. Which I went and cancelled because of a freaky vision-nightmare-thing I just _couldn't_ ignore," she added sardonically. "Still, this day's been pretty exciting, right?"

"Sure," Dean said, stepping away from the still-unconscious demon and pulling his jacket back on. "Anyway, we need to get goin'. Still haven't reached Sam?"

Ava shook her head and held out Dean's phone. He snatched it from her hand, snagged a bag of salt and poured it across the windowsill and the doorway. "It's to keep her from getting out in case she somehow manages to break the Trap," he explained before Ava could ask. "C'mon."

Less than a minute later, Dean had all of his and Sam's things in the trunk, they were back in Dean's car and speeding toward Scott Carey's house once more.

* * *

It was the succubus Gerry was supposed to be Hunting. Sam was shocked by this, to say the least, because he'd thought it was only going after teenage boys. Scott's father was easily in his fourties, so that was against its current pattern in the city. What the hell was going on?

Of course, between the door slamming open and Scott's cry of "Dad!" the succubus' attention was instantly drawn to them. Sam knew his dad had faced one once years ago, but the description in his journal didn't quite do it justice. This thing was ten times more hideous than he had imagined.

"Winchester," the succubus suddenly hissed, and Sam barely had any time to react before the demonic creature was flying at him. Scott yelled as the succubus slammed into Sam, which caused him to slam him into the wall behind him, making his vision black out for a moment. Thankfully, his super-human strength made it fairly easy to throw the thing off, but it barely hesitated before jumping at him again. He struggled with the thing, pushing it away and moving further into the room. Scott, meanwhile, had regained his senses and was pulling his still-groggy father from the room.

That's when the succubus jumped at him again.

Sam immediately realized his mistake. His back was to the large bedroom window, and the succubus had a lot of kinetic energy. Next thing he knew, they were crashing through the window and he thought he heard someone yell his name as he managed to get the succubus underneath him before they impacted with the ground.

He rolled off the bitch, gasping for air as he struggled to sit up again. Meanwhile, the succubus managed to get into a crouch, but it wasn't looking at him anymore. It was staring across the street like it had spotted something it wanted to mate with or possibly kill violently.

_Gross,_ Sam thought, finally sitting up and using his telekinesis to throw the succubus across the yard and into the nearest tree. The thing shrieked loud enough to make his eardrums throb, but he managed to hold it against the tree. The only problem, unfortunately, was that Sam was running on so little sleep that it could be all to easy to break his concentration, allowing the succubus to escape. He hoped that he'd be able to hold it in place until someone else showed up to perform an exorcism.

"Sam!" Scott yelled as he threw open the front door, and Sam reacted by looking over at him.

It was enough. The succubus burst free from his hold and the tree toppled over into the car next door, setting off the alarm. Sam looked back around as the succubus crouched in the direction of the house across the street, and his eyes were drawn to the red car he was sure he had seen back at the diner, and then to the open second-story window.

It was Thomas and his uncle Gerald.

Succubi, Sam remembered, had incredible strength that enabled them to jump great distances with little effort. They were pretty much impossible to stop once they had started moving. Of course, this applied to normal human strength. Sam wasn't normal.

The succubus leapt toward the house, toward Thomas and Gerald, and Sam refocused his concentration before throwing out a hand and jerking. Instantly, the bitch was jerked away from the open window just feet away from its next targets, and Sam forced it face-down into the grass below.

He was still out of breath, and he was incredibly achy from the fall, but he couldn't let that distract him right now. Sam staggered to his feet, attention still glued to the succubus, which was now writhing and shrieking against his invisible hold on it. He slowly crossed the street, ignoring the neighbors as they stepped out of their houses, barely aware of Scott staying close to his side and looking around at the attention they were getting.

When he reached the succubus, it lessened its struggles and turned its head as far to the side as it could, glowing green eyes meeting his. "Let me go," it hissed menacingly.

"No," Sam said as Thomas and Gerald emerged from the house.

"LET ME GO!" the succubus screeched, causing Sam to wince. Damn it all, but he was tiring too quickly to keep this up.

"You got an exorcism ready?" he asked Gerald without looking up. "I don't think I can hold it down for much longer."

"Yeah," Gerald said, lifting up a book that he'd been carrying and opening it.

"Hurry," Sam urged him.

Gerald nodded and began to read as quickly as he could. As he recited, the succubus started screaming and jerking around in Sam's hold. "I'll kill you!" it shrieked. "I'll come back and find and kill you all! Pathetic little fucking machines! You're all gonna die in Hell, you're all gonna _fuckin' BURN_!"

Sam could feel his strength slipping, but Gerald's voice was rising in volume as he began to near the end of the exorcism. And then he sensed something else, something that was very familiar.

"You're not gonna last much longer, Sam." A woman with faded brown hair and brown eyes stepped into his field of vision. "Gerald still has a ways to go before he's finished."

"Mrs. Weston?" said Scott in bewilderment. "What are you —?"

"She's possessed by a demon," Sam said darkly, still focused on the succubus as Gerald kept reading.

Mrs. Weston's eyes turned black and she smiled in a calm, chilling way. "Good call," she said. "You know, I could help you be stronger, Sam."

"No," Sam said shortly, knowing at once what she was offering.

"But you can't hold onto the succubus for much longer," the demon said.

"I'll make it," Sam ground out.

"You mean to tell me that you haven't thought about it at all?" Mrs. Weston asked lightly. "Haven't thought about how it smelled, how it _tasted_ , the way it sang in your veins when you used its power?"

Gerald faltered, clearly distracted by what the demon was saying, and a triumphant smirk crossed her stolen face.

"Keep reading!" Sam snapped. "Gerry!"

The older man's eyes finally met his. "Keep reading," Sam repeated, and the Hunter nodded and resumed the exorcism.

"Don't you want to feel strong again?" asked Mrs. Weston, voice still very audible despite Gerald's chanting and the succubus' screaming. "Don't you want that power back? I'll give it to you, I'll even let you send me back to Hell once you've finished with the succubus here." She pulled out a knife and held it to her wrist. "Just say the word, Sam, and it's all yours. No one to hold you back, no need to be protected or anything."

Sam was startled by how tempted he suddenly was. He remembered how it felt, how _he_ felt. In those moments when he had used those exorcism powers, he had felt like he wasn't the little brother that needed coddling and protection. He could take care of himself, he didn't need Dean at all, not his protection, not his anything —

_Dean._

"No," Sam all but shouted, and then Gerald had reached the end of the exorcism, and the succubus shrieked once more before bursting into a cloud of burning smoke that vanished into the ground, leaving behind a blob of blackened earth with singed grass edges. Sam slumped to his knees, energy pretty much all spent.

That was when Gordon Walker darted forward from nowhere with an iron chain, which he pulled around Mrs. Weston's frame, trapping her arms by her sides and forcing her to drop her knife. "NO!" she screamed, struggling, but Thomas ran over, a bag of salt in his hands. He quickly upended it into the demon's mouth, choking up her screams.

Sam felt Scott drop down next to him. "Who's that black guy?" he asked.

"Gordon," Sam sighed.

"You mean psychopath Gordon who wants to kill us?" Scott hissed in his ear, his panic overpowering the emotions from everyone else nearby. Sam nodded wearily, wondering where Dean was.

Just then, the sound of a roaring engine and screeching tires reached Sam's ears, and he looked up just as the Impala skidded around the corner and slammed to a halt right behind the red Pontiac. Dean jumped out and ran to the trunk.

"I got a Devil's Trap!" he yelled, and then Gordon, Thomas and Gerald were hauling the still-screaming demon over to the car, shoving her into the trunk which Dean closed with a snap.

"Oh my God, Sam!" Sam lifted his head as Ava dropped to her knees in front of him, her own panic joining in with Scott's. "You're bleeding!"

Sam dropped his head back down and saw that his stitches had ripped open, blood still oozing out around the broken stitches and down his arm. "Oh," he said blankly, realizing the bandage over it must have come off in his fight with the succubus. "That's nice."

There was a lot of shouting around him, a lot of confusion and anger filling his senses, and he thought he could hear sirens, but all he could do was watch as Ava pulled off her jacket at Scott's order so she could press it to his wound.

"Sam?" he heard Scott say. "C'mon man, don't check out on us now." There was a pause. "I think he might be going into shock or something."

"What?" Ava gasped and her levels of panic only increased further. "Oh no, Sam, you've gotta focus, honey, that man from my vision is _here_! He's gonna kill us!"

That should have mattered, but Sam just couldn't bring himself to care. He was just _so fucking tired_ …

"Sam! Sammy!" It was Dean, he was grabbing Sam by his shoulders, worry rolling off him and overpowering his anger and fear along with Scott's and Ava's panic.

"De…"

Sam tried to make himself focus for Dean's sake, but it was just too hard. The world began to spin, he saw Dean's anguished expression and he heard his cry of "Sammy, no!"

Then the world went dark.


	8. Escape Artists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go!

This was one of the strangest situations Dean had ever seen, and he had seen plenty of strange and crazy things.

Sam and Scott were at the house across the street. Gordon had put in an appearance, but he had an iron chain wrapped around a woman who was screaming obscenities as Thomas and Gerald Humphrey helped to restrain her, pouring salt down her throat. _Looks like the demon next-door neighbor,_ Dean thought as he took in the crowd of neighborhood goers that was slowly building in size by the house next to Scott's. A tree in Scott's yard had toppled over and smashed a car next door; the alarm was still going strong.

Then he spotted the charred earth before Sam and felt his blood run cold.

"That's him!" Ava suddenly shouted, pointing at Gordon. "That's they guy who killed Scott in my vision."

"Gordon," Dean sighed as he slammed the Impala to a halt behind a red Pontiac GTO. "Go check on Sam, Ava."

Ava nodded and exited the car as Dean jumped out. "I got a Devil's Trap!" he yelled as he went to open his trunk. Seconds later, Gordon, Thomas and Gerald were hauling the screaming woman into it and slamming the trunk closed.

"You're bleeding!" Ava's voice reached Dean's ears, and he looked over to see that Sam's stitches had been torn, blood still dripping sluggishly down his left arm.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"Your brother's a freak of nature," Gordon said before the other two men could so much as open their mouths. "Just psychic?" He looked over at Sam, and Dean could see that the kid's arm was starting to shake pretty bad as the blood continued to dribble out, but he didn't even seem to realize it. "He's not even fully human."

"Yes, he is!" Dean snapped angrily.

"I just thought he was inhumanly strong," Gordon continued as though he hadn't heard a word Dean said. "I mean, he came through that second-story window without breaking a bone in his body."

"What?" Dean whirled around to Scott's house, and sure enough, a window on the second floor was completely shattered.

"He was fighting the succubus," Thomas said loudly.

"Which he managed to trap against the ground with nothing more than his brain," Gordon pointed out.

"I don't care what my brother can and cannot do!" Dean shouted. "He is _still_ my brother, and he is _still_ human, so lemme tell you this: if you make _one_ move towards him or Scott or even Ava, I will kill you here and now, I swear to God."

Gordon frowned, but said nothing. Dean glared at him before hurrying over to Sam.

Scott looked worried. Ava was clearly panicking. And Sam… Ava had pressed her jacket to the wound on his arm, but it was clear that the events of the evening had really taken their toll on him. His eyes were slightly unfocused and his head was lolling on his shoulders.

"Sam!" Dean said tersely as he dropped to his knees and grabbed Sam's shoulders. "Sammy!"

"De…" Sam's eyes landed on him, but it was clear he was losing the battle to stay conscious. He started to tip forward.

"Sammy, no!" But Sam was completely out, sagging bonelessly against Dean. He pulled his brother close and tried to rein his emotions in, but there was the faint sound of sirens and there were witnesses all over the place and the ground was cracked and burned and Gordon was here and he just could not deal with all this by himself.

"We need to go," Gerald said. "All of us, now."

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. "Scott, Ava, help me get Sam into my car," he said, and they both nodded quickly, although their eyes kept straying in Gordon's direction. Gordon, meanwhile, only stood and watched.

It took a little effort, but Sam was placed in the Impala's backseat, Ava volunteering to hold his head in her lap and keep applying pressure to the reopened gash in his arm. Gerald wanted to set up some other meeting place, but Dean refused. "That succubus was a trap to kill you and Thomas," he said shortly, but quietly. "Staying around us is only going to get you both killed, but I need someone to keep Gordon away while we get out." Gerald's eyes widened.

"Is he the one you said —?"

Dean nodded. "Please," he said, hating to ask, but having no other way to get out of this with starting a body count.

"What about my dad?" Scott suddenly asked, standing beside the passenger-side door of the Impala. "I can't just leave him here."

"The succubus attacked him, didn't it?" Thomas asked, and Scott nodded. "So, that means he's in no shape to go anywhere right now. I'll watch over him and fend off the cops for as long as I can."

"Tom —" Gerald started.

"This is my city, I know these people," Thomas cut him off. "Plus, my parents have the best lawyer in the state on their side. I'll be fine, Gerry." He smiled as confidently as he could, and it was enough. Dean thanked them both, shot one last glare at Gordon, and then the Impala's engine was roaring to life and he took off, zooming away from the sirens, from the witnesses, from Gordon and the others.

"We're in deep shit now, aren't we?" asked Scott.

Dean nodded. "We're in _really_ deep shit, kiddo."

* * *

"You _saw_ what Sam Winchester did," Gordon said the moment the '67 Chevy Impala had driven out of sight.

"Yeah, I did," Gerald said gruffly, "but that doesn't mean he's gonna be some soldier in a demon army or whatever the hell it is you think is goin' on."

"That is _exactly_ what a demon told me," Gordon responded.

"Demons lie."

"Not when tortured hard enough."

"You know what," Gerald said, feeling beyond exasperated with the other Hunter, "you are a damn fine Hunter, Gordon, but no human child in their right mind would choose a demon army over other humans, especially when they have families and other people they _care_ about, and _especially_ not a kid like Sam Winchester." He thought for a moment before snorting. "Not that that means anything to a man who tracked down and killed his sister for being turned into a vampire against her will."

"She _had_ to die," Gordon said, sounding so perfectly reasonable that Gerald wanted to smash the man's face in. "So does Sam, and so do all the other children like him."

"You are _seriously_ fucked in the head," Gerald snapped. "Thomas, go check on the kid's dad, would ya?"

"What about him?" Thomas asked, still staring at Gordon.

Gerald chuckled. "I think the three of us are goin' to jail, son. Sorry about that."

Thomas shrugged, said, "I've already been through worse," and took off across the street to where Scott's father was leaning heavily against the doorway of his home.

"How _did_ he manage to escape possession?" Gordon asked. "I'm assuming a demon took control of him, right?"

Gerald nodded. "The Winchester's saved him," he said, "and that means I owe 'em one. You're not killin' anyone, Gordon."

"What was that demon sayin' to Sam?" Gordon asked abruptly. "Why was she holdin' a knife to her wrist?"

Gerald had his suspicions, and God knew he wanted to track down those boys and find out if what he was thinking was actually true, but he wasn't about to tell a psychopath like Gordon. The sound of sirens grew louder and emergency vehicles started pouring into the street. Gerald shot a grin at Gordon. "No idea," he said. "Didn't make a lick of sense."

Then the police were all over them, but Gerald didn't care. He had saved the boys who rescued his nephew, and nothing else mattered.

* * *

Sam was unconscious through an exorcism (which left Mrs. Weston alive and completely grateful as they left her by the side of the road just outside of town), a license plate switch ("Someone in that crowd could have taken down the description and plates of the car," Dean explained to Scott and Ava), and a two-and-a-half hour drive to the outskirts of Peoria, Illinois, where Dean checked into a motel for the night.

"You should call your family," he told Ava, "go home, get engaged and… stuff."

"What about Gordon?" Ava asked. "What about my _car_?"

Dean shrugged. "I'll figure it out later," he said as he grabbed the first aid kit out of the trunk and headed back into the motel room, Ava following him silently. Sam was already laid out on one bed, and Scott was cleaning up the reopened gash on his arm. "Okay," Dean said, taking a seat next to Sam and pulling out the supplies he needed to stitch the wound closed once more. "This is probably gonna be weird to watch, so you might wanna turn on the TV or something."

Unsurprisingly, they both chose to observe the stitching process. Dean rolled his eyes as he finished threading the needle and inserted it into Sam's skin. His little brother's arm twitched, but Sam still didn't wake up. In fact, Dean sewed up the entire gash and Sam didn't wake once. Honestly, it worried him more than he wanted to admit aloud.

"All right," he sighed, sitting back and tossing the used needle onto the nightstand, "that should do it."

"Wow," Ava said after a moment," that _was_ weird to watch."

"I notice you're not squeamish," Dean said, and Ava shrugged. "Anyway," he continued, turning to Scott, "can you tell me everything that happened while Ava and I were gone?"

And Scott did. It wasn't a pretty picture; Gordon had seen too much and Scott had heard more than Dean wanted anyone to hear ever. "Wait," Ava said, "how was cutting her arm open and bleeding some kind of temptation to Sam?"

Dean sighed; he'd already been over this with Ellen, Ash, Jo and even Andy. He especially didn't like doing this when Sam wasn't conscious. Regardless, he explained about how Sam, Ava, Scott and others like them had been fed demon blood at the age of six months, and about Sam's time spent in captivity with the demon that had done it, or what little he really knew about it. The fact of the matter was that Dean had never heard Sam's perspective on the exorcisms he had performed, let alone much of anything else. "I know he was addicted to that demon blood," he finished, "but the fact that he resisted shows how strong he is."

No one said anything for several minutes. "Why won't he wake up?" Ava asked at last.

"Exhaustion," Dean answered, "more than anything else. He's been pushing too hard for the last month, barely sleeping and doing research at all hours of the day and night." He stared down at Sam, thinking how his brother looked so young and innocent like this. It was a nice change from pinched brows and exhaustion, but he wasn't sure the end result was worth the price.

" _I just wonder how you expect to see the means without the end. All this random, frantic action the two of you take."_ Sam and Dean were doing what they could, but Tara had a point. They had no idea where Azazel's plans were leading them to, so all they could hope to do was try and stop them by finding as many special children as they could and convincing them not to let Azazel influence them. Not for the first time, he wished that his father could have been a little more forthcoming about what he knew about the future, about Azazel's end game.

In the end, Dean managed to convince Ava to call her boyfriend and he showed up twenty minutes later to pick her up, filled with questions, confusion and worry over the fact that she was with three guys, one of whom was unconscious and covered in blood.

"Very long story," Ava said, staring up at the guy. "You think I could stay with you tonight?"

"Yeah," the boyfriend said (Ava had introduced him, but Dean didn't care to remember the guy's name, and it had already slipped his mind), "yeah, okay. Are you _sure_ you're fine?"

"Yes, I am," Ava said to him. "Today's just been too long, you know?" She smiled. "But really, I'm fine, I'm safe. These guys…" She huffed a small laugh. "They're lifesavers."

The boyfriend nodded and smiled before meeting Dean's eyes. "Thanks for watching out for her, I guess," he said.

"Not a problem," Dean said. "Now go live a happy, normal life."

The boyfriend frowned in confusion, but Ava dragged him out of the motel room before he could say anything. "I'll call tomorrow, Dean," she said before the door shut.

"Finally," Dean sighed, dropping back onto the edge of Sam's bed. He looked over at Scott. "How you holdin' up?" he asked after a moment.

Scott shrugged. "I'm okay," he said with a shrug. "Just… Are you sure my dad'll be fine?"

"I'm sure," Dean said firmly. "You can call him in the morning on a payphone, let him know you're fine, but you can't tell him where you are until I'm a hundred percent certain that Gordon's out of the picture completely."

Scott nodded. "He wouldn't kill my dad, would he?"

"Doubt it," Dean said. "He didn't know you're special. I'm sure he'd kill me if given half a chance, though."

"Sounds bad," Scott said. "Why would he want to do that?"

Dean sighed and glanced down at Sam, who was still out. "Like I said, we had a bad Hunt together, and I'm sure he's realized that I'm more than aware of Sam's abilities. Both of those are probably enough for him to want me dead just as much as he wants Sam, you and with every other psychic kid like you out there dead." He shook his head. "Complete psycho."

"Yeah," Scott murmured, "so you've said."

Little else was said the rest of that night.

* * *

Tara was pissed. Stuck inside a Devil's Trap with salt covering the windowsills and the doorway was not the way she wanted to wake up. "Stupid girl," she muttered angrily, pulling at the ropes on her wrists and thinking of ways to torture Ava the next time she saw her. Not that she really would if she wanted to stay on Azazel's good side, but it was fun to imagine, right?

She sat in that chair all night long. It wasn't until room service arrived that things started going her way again.

"Hello?" called out the room cleaner as she opened the door. When she caught sight of Tara, she gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Hi," Tara said flatly. "Mind untying me?"

"Oh my God, what happened?" asked the girl as she rushed forward, messing up the line of salt around the doorway and dropping to her knees.

"Bad joke or something," Tara sighed as the girl worked the knots holding her wrists down free. "Like a satanic ritual."

The girl looked down at the Devil's Trap. "What is this?" she whispered, sounding horrified.

"Clean it up, finish untying me and I'll tell you," Tara said, trying not to sound mean or anything. The girl nodded, finished untying the knots and ran to her car to grab her carpet cleaner. A few minutes later, the Trap was broken just enough that Tara could move out of it.

"Thank you," she said to the girl as she left the room.

"Wait!" the girl called. "Don't you want to call the authorities or something?"

"Of course not," said Tara, turning back to the girl and allowing her eyes to show her true nature. "I'd only have to kill them. And speaking of…" She raised a hand and twisted it, causing the girl's neck to snap. She slumped to the carpet and Tara felt a little bit better about the entire situation.

Then she found out that Gerald and Thomas were still alive, that the succubus was gone, and that Hillary Weston had been through a successful exorcism. The fact that she had no scratches on her body meant that Sam had resisted the temptation of drinking demon blood, which meant that so long as he knew Dean was alive and around, he wouldn't go back to it. Dean Winchester was going to have to die first, and then Sam would be theirs to command and control to whatever ends Azazel had in store for them. Personally, she hoped it was going to be some kind of Apocalypse. That'd be really neat.

She stared at Scott Carey's house and wondered what the Winchester's next step would be.

* * *

Sam rose slowly to consciousness, slowly because the last thing he remembered was being tempted with demon blood and because Gordon had been close enough to gank him. Still, it seemed he was still alive, so maybe Dean had gotten them out before the cops could show up.

His left arm was throbbing, and he recalled that his stitches had ripped out during the fight with the succubus. He didn't want to move or anything, but a groan escaped and he clenched his closed lids tighter.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice and emotions were filled with concern. "You back with us, kiddo?"

Sam let out another groan before finally cracking his eyes open. Dean's worried face hovered over his own, a glass of water already in one hand. "Hey," Sam croaked out, and he tried to push himself into a sitting position, but Scott was suddenly there, gently guiding him up and stuffing pillows behind his back.

"You pulled out enough stitches yesterday," he offered by way of explanation before Dean was holding out the glass of water.

"How long was I out?" Sam asked after draining the entire glass.

"About fifteen hours," Dean sighed, setting the glass aside and sitting on the edge of Sam's bed. "We're in Peoria, and I got Ava to go home with her boyfriend."

"Oh," Sam said. "What about Gordon?"

"In jail, according to Tom's dad," Dean said with a small smile. "I exorcized Mrs. Weston before dropping her on the outskirts of Lafayette, and apparently she's not pressing charges, which is baffling the police, of course."

"What about Thomas and Gerald?"

"They're still being held for breaking and entering that house I found you guys outside of, but I think Tom's parents are speaking with the owners, so chances are those charges'll get dropped, too."

"So Gordon's gonna get out," Sam said flatly, but Dean shook his head with a smile on his face.

"Called in an anonymous tip," he said, smile turning into a grin. "They got a search warrant for Gordon's car and found evidence in the form of research on both you and Scott, along with his impressive arsenal of guns and knives. The fact that Scott's 'missing' means he ain't goin' nowhere anytime soon." He looked very pleased with himself. "They're also tryin' to find you, too, especially since witnesses' descriptions and your prints in Scott's house landed a match."

"What about you?" Sam asked. "I mean, you're supposed to be dead."

"What?" said Scott.

"Long story," Dean said dismissively, "but nothing's been said about me, so I'm still in the free and clear. Most they could have are vague suspicions and nothing to back them with." He looked pretty pleased with himself. "Anyway, Scott's dad knows he's alive, so no worries there. All we need is to figure out what to do so Scott can go back home and Gordon can stay locked up for a very long time."

Sam frowned. "Give me some time," he said, "and I can probably figure something out."

Dean nodded, and something filtered into his emotions that caught Sam's attention. It was something dark, like a bad memory or something. "Dean," Sam said hesitantly, "why was Ava still with you when you came back? What happened?"

After a long moment, Dean sighed and looked away. "Tara," he said, and Sam's insides froze.

"Not Tara from L.A.," he said, and Dean's shoulders dropped before he nodded.

"It was all a giant test-trap from Hell," Dean told him, not quite meeting his eyes. "The succubus was a trap for Thomas and Gerald, and Mrs. Weston was your test."

Sam struggled to stay calm. "They wanted to see if I'd go back to it," he said softly, and Dean nodded. "I didn't," he added.

"I know," Dean said, and now he met his eyes. "You did good, Sammy."

Sam swallowed and nodded. "What happened to… to Tara?"

"I uh…" Dean sighed before scowling. "I put her in a Devil's Trap at that motel we were stayin' in, but I needed to find you and Scott, so I never got a chance to go back and exorcize her."

"Which means she'll escape," Sam said. He dropped his head against the headboard and closed his eyes. "Dammit."

"Yeah," Dean said. "I know."


	9. The Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the first story in the series, "Purpose", then you'll recognize the payoff I'm about to cash in from that story.

Gordon picked up the phone and placed it to his ear, staring through the glass at his visitor. "Have you found him yet?"

Kubrick nodded. "Still at the same address."

"And Sam?"

"Disappeared with his brother, it seems."

Gordon frowned. "You need to find him," he said, "he's the only one who knows how to find the others like him and Scott."

"I'll call around, let as many Hunters know as I can that I'm lookin' for 'im," Kubrick promised. "He'll turn up eventually."

Gordon nodded. "And in the meantime?"

"Don't worry about it," Kubrick said with a smile that bordered on creepy. "I'm taking care of that as soon as I can get him alone."

"Good," Gordon said. "Now all we gotta do is find a way to get me the hell outta here."

"We will," Kubrick said. "Just sit tight for now, okay? I'll get some friends together and we'll work this out, I promise you."

Gordon nodded, Kubrick left, and Gordon went off to recreational time. He needed to keep up his strength and endurance until he could get out of this place and find the Winchester's. They were both going to die, and he would be the one to kill them both, nice and slow if he could manage it, too.

* * *

It took two days of planning to get Scott back home. He had to convince the police that Sam was protecting him from Gordon. He had to claim to not know what was going on with the strange, hairless creature witnesses had seen. He had to say that he didn't know why the unknown man and woman had stuffed Mrs. Hillary Weston into the trunk of the long, black car before taking off with him and Sam, only that he knew he had to stay with Sam. The man and woman were only protecting _them_.

It was easy to say he didn't know Gerald or Thomas, because honestly, he really didn't. He knew the Fulmer's across the street, though he hadn't spoken to them in months. In the end, he managed to convince the police that he was fine, that Sam had already been attacked by Gordon before finding out that the man was going after Scott and driving here to alert him and try to fend Gordon off himself, and that Sam had taken off as soon as they'd heard that Gordon was behind bars, leaving Scott to return home safely.

Scott told his father the entire truth, and showed him his power by electrocuting a stray mouse. "I'm wearing the gloves to protect everyone until I can learn to control it," he explained. "I never thought that was possible, but Sam and Dean gave me hope." He smiled sadly. "I'm sorry for how I've been acting the last few months," he added. "I was completely terrified of myself and what I could do to you. Not that the nightmares helped any…" He trailed off with a shrug.

His father had been taken aback by the story, but when he pulled Scott into his arms and assured him that everything would be all right, that they would find a way to get through this and that he had never been so proud of him, Scott knew he was safe and that everything would be all right. He didn't know that it would last forever, he couldn't predict the future by any means, but for now, he was safe and there were no demons possessing the people he knew. And even better, Azazel stopped visiting him in his dreams. The collage came off the back wall of his closet, and Scott finally found that he could breathe again. It certainly wasn't perfect, but it was good enough.

* * *

Ava fingered the ring on her left hand as she waited for Karena to open the door to her apartment. "Hey," Karena said brightly. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I know," Ava said. _"Christo."_

Karena hissed, eyes turning black as she flinched away. "I thought so," Ava said, pulling out a flask of holy water. "Sam, Dean!"

Thirty minutes later, Karena was freed from possession and Sam and Dean were ready to hit the road. "I'm keeping in contact with the both of you," Ava told them firmly as she walked with them to their car. "Don't you _dare_ try to cut me out."

"We won't," Sam said, smiling. Ava insisted on hugging both of them before they could leave.

"Where are you two going next?" she asked.

"Maryland," Sam answered, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the car. "We think we may be able to find out more about Azazel's plans there, maybe even learn what his end game is."

"Wow," Ava said. "I hope you find out, cause I sure wanna know what's going on. I really don't wanna have more visions of death, you know?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "I know."

Ava bit her lip as Dean opened the driver's side door. "What if I _do_ have another vision?" she asked.

"Call me," Sam answered at once. "You take care of yourself, okay?"

Ava nodded and smiled. "You, too."

She watched as Sam and Dean slid into their car, watched as they drove away, turned the corner and sped out of sight. Sighing, she turned back to see that Karena was leaning against the open doorway of her apartment and headed back over to her. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah," Karena said softly. "Well, not really, but I think I can cope with it." She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind one ear. "I found something the demon left behind," she said after a moment, holding out an envelope with Ava's name written on the front. "It's my handwriting, but I don't remember writing it."

With a frown, Ava took the letter and opened it.

_Ava,_

_If you're reading this, then I was exorcized and sent back to Hell, setting your dear friend free from my demonic clutches. Or whatever. Anyway, the reason I'm writing this is because there are some things you need to know._

_I'm going to assume you know who Sam and Dean Winchester are, that you got caught up in some crazy adventure with them. They're the only ones who could possibly find out about me and send me back to Hell. Their father, John found a way to track Azazel (you should know who he is by now, too) and was doing research to try and find all the other special children like yourself and Sam. If us demons know anything about Sam Winchester, it's that he's a research nut and he's probably trying to find the other special children, the ones who, like you, did_ not _lose their mother's in a house fire at the age of six months._

_Sam should already have a list of the right locations. What he_ doesn't _have is the key to identifying the other special children. Azazel doesn't want him to find the others. I do._

_One thing the Winchester's don't know is that Azazel had to find a way to gain permission to enter each house, and he did this by making Deals. He would perform medical miracles, and all the humans he made the Deals with had to do was grant him permission to come by sometime in the year 1983. The Deals were made, the miracles performed, and the humans would eventually mate, have their babies and create their families. Then every mother would end up giving birth in the year 1983 between the months of May and June, and he'd come to collect exactly six months later._

_The key consists of two facts: it was always the mother's who made the Deals, saving their future husbands from certain death, and every child was born exactly_ one _month premature. Not even Sam knows about this last part._

_I bet you're wondering why I'm telling you all this. After all, Azazel's my boss and I'm supposed to do what he says, right? Well, here's the thing. Sam is Azazel's favorite, though I can't say what that means, exactly, because I just don't know. But if you know Sam, then you know that he is consistently working toward averting Azazel's plans by getting you all on his side, against the idea of becoming a soldier in a demon's army. Azazel doesn't want this. I don't think it'll make a difference either way. You don't understand what that means right now, but I guarantee that someday you will. And you'll say that I was right._

_Take care, and be sure to pass along the information I've given you to Sam._

_Karena_

* * *

Sam read over the email Ava had sent him. "Dean," he said after a long moment, "was I born premature?"

"Huh?" Dean looked up from cleaning the guns. "Oh uh…" Sam felt Dean's emotions shift as he tried to remember. "Yeah," he finally said. "You were. I remember Dad took me to see you in the hospital, but he said I could only look through a window at you because you were born early and could get sick too easily." He met Sam's eyes. "You didn't get to come home with us until the end of the month." Then he frowned. "Why you askin', Sammy?"

"Well uh…" Sam huffed a small laugh and gestured at his computer screen. "I got an email from Ava. You know that demon we exorcized this morning?" Dean nodded. "Apparently it left a letter behind that gives the key to finding all the other special children. And, weirder than that, it really does seem to check out completely." He watched as Dean stood and came over to read the letter himself.

"So you were all born in the months of May and June," he said after a moment, "and you were all born one month early."

"I know it sounds crazy," Sam said, looking back at the computer screen, "but Ava called Scott and talked to her parents, and it already seems to check out. Scott's dad was completely cured of cancer in 1973, and Ava's dad managed to recover from what should have been a deadly car crash the same year. They were also born one month early, Ava on May 23, and Scott on June 1."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck as he stared down at Sam's laptop. "And then we know Mom made a Deal for Dad's life," he added quietly, and Sam nodded. "I can't believe a demon would willingly tell you all this."

"I know," Sam said, staring at the reason the demon had given. "Still, it sounds like the kind of thing a demon would say, that it won't change anything."

"It'd better change things," Dean said, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Anyway, we should start heading towards Maryland in a couple days, so I'm gonna head to the bar and hustle some pool for toll booth and gas money."

"Okay," Sam said, watching as Dean put the guns away and pulled on his jacket. "Have fun."

"Get some sleep," Dean replied in turn before the door closed behind him. Sam smiled softly before turning back to his laptop. He had a lot of research to do.

* * *

"Well?" he asked as soon as she entered the room.

"He resisted," she said after a moment, "and the Humphrey's still live." She remained standing, shifting her weight uncomfortably.

"Still live," he echoed slowly. "Why didn't you finish the job?"

"Dean Winchester captured me with unexpected help in the form of the child Ava Wilson."

That _was_ unexpected. "Ava showed up?" he said. "I thought her visions hadn't become any more distinct than strange nightmares."

"Well, apparently they have, because she was there and she knew about demonic possession. I believe they already sent Hillary back into the Pit, and Karena will soon follow, if she hasn't already." They stared at each other for a long moment.

"… I'm _very_ disappointed in you, Tara," he said. "I guess this task was just too much for you."

"It wasn't!" Tara exclaimed. "I simply failed to plan for the unexpected. It never occurred to me that Ava's nightmares would become true, distinct visions after so long of them not being that way."

"It is the _simplest_ of mistakes that can make an entire nation fall, Tara. _Surely_ you remember that from when you were once human."

"I _do_ remember," Tara said, lowering her head and allowing her dark hair to obscure her face.

"Then make sure that this never happens again," he told her, "or I'll send you back into the Pit myself."

"Of course. Thank you."

Azazel watched as Tara left and leaned back in his desk chair. He was never fond of laying low and letting others do his work, but not all the pieces were in their proper places yet on his playing board. For one, he still didn't have a way to get Dean downstairs, and it was becoming increasingly crucial that he did; word from below was that John still wasn't breaking. Of course, it had only been about ten years down there, and John was a strong-spirited man. He still couldn't help but feel that John would continue to resist, would never give in.

What a shame.

There were also tests that needed to be performed with Sam as the test subject. Could the boy sense demons who were hiding inside their hosts as easily as he could a demon who was in control? And what about the virus he was told to perfect? They needed to know if it would affect just the normal human population as targeted, or if it would take down the special children, as well. It was going to be a key part to the end game, and the sooner they had answers, the sooner they'd know if it was going to be usable or not. Hopefully it would work correctly, because if Sam wasn't immune, then none of the others would be. And he _needed_ them all to be, needed _Sam_ to be.

Azazel propped his feet up on his desk as he thought. He had demons stationed in people close to every special child, including that Jake kid out in Afghanistan. The question now was which one Sam and Dean would find next. There were so many of them out there. In any case, Sam's next test needed to be set up just as soon as he had word of the boys' current location. _So much to do, and so little time to do it in…_

Azazel grinned. He _did_ love a challenge.

* * *

END


End file.
